


Master of Biological Science

by pmonkey816



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, angst like whoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima is a promising young artist cruising through her MA degree with her friends by her side when she meets Delphine, a fellow student and bona fide straight lady and finds herself falling hard and fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frontin'

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I've been lurking on this site long enough that I thought I should start posting here. I have no idea why this is the best, but it is. Enjoy the story!

“Cosima! Hey!” Scott was sort of a strange-looking dude, to be sure, but Cosima had always had a liking for him. He was goofy, not annoying and pretentious like all the other boys in the school, and his take on artwork was generally intelligent. He got things the other art majors just didn't. He had almost as little patience as she for these things, actually, and he was a nice person to be able to roll eyes with.

 

But now was _really_ not the time. Because right now, there was a beautiful girl staring at her painting, fascinated, lips hanging open.

 

“Just, wow.” The girl twirled some split ends thoughtlessly around her pointer finger. “I can't believe you painted this.” She glanced up at Cosima, smiling. “It really captures...” She leaned back, stroking at her cheek. “It really captures, like, the whole existential question, you know? Like, 'who am I? What am I all about?'”

 

Sure. Why not?

 

“Totally. That's exactly what I was going for.” Cosima nodded, her crush on the girl fading a little,but not enough to not sleep with her. For experience. For art. She took a step closer, partly to speed along the process and partly to block the girl's view of her artist's statement. The woman—damn, what had she said her name was?—turned to face Cosima more fully, cautiously running a hand along her dreadlocks. She leaned forward, lips hesitating, teasing achingly close to Cosima's for just a second.

 

And that's when Scott had decided yelling her name out was a good idea, and Cosima's head had twitched toward the noise, dragged harshly from the tension of the moment. Fucking Scott.

 

The girl pulled away, blushing, looking down at her feet. “Whoa. I'm sorry, I-I totally shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.”

 

“No, no, no.” Cosima practically jumped forward, grasping her upper arms and shaking her head to assure her. “No. Don't be sorry, I definitely was into that, I just heard someone call my name and--” She was almost glad this time when Scott cut off her rambling, placing his hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

 

“Cosima. Hey.” His goofiest grin was on his face, all teeth and glasses, and thin, lopsided lips. She reminded herself that one day, he'd probably be rich doing his graphic design shit for some major marketing firm, and she'd probably need him to fund another one of her projects. Fuck. Trying to make it as an artist without selling out to corporations was tough, man. “I have someone I want you to meet.” He stepped to the side to show he'd brought along company.

 

S he recognized him right away. Aldous Leekie. Curator of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. He struck an elegant figure, one of classic New York bohemia: Tall, with severe features and a bald head. A suit culled and blocked as elegantly and seamlessly as his collection  at the museum.

 

“Holy shit.” Her jaw dropped, and for once, she was utterly at a loss for words. Her brain had skidded to a sudden stop, the needle skipping over the same spot over and over again _Leekie, Leekie, Leekie,_ _this guy could make or break you._ _S_ _ay something_ _, you idiot_ _!_ And just like that, it jumped back into motion. “I mean, nice to meet you, sir. I'm Cosima.” _Last name. You're not desperate enough to do the one name thing yet, are you?_ “Niehaus. Cosima Niehaus.” He took her hand, and smiled.

 

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Niehaus. I'm Aldous Leekie.” He smiles, motioning to the painting next to her. “Is this your painting?”

 

“Yes! Yep. It absolutely is.” She stuttered, her face suddenly burning bright red, obvious even underneath the olive skin that usually was able to block out a faint flushing of her cheeks.

 

“Hmm.” Aldous moved to face it fully, taking it in, and the woman who had been standing quietly at his side, moved around to join him, leaning against his arm as they both studied it. How had Cosima not noticed her before? She's... “Whenever I do college visits, I ask the school to give me a student to be my chaperone for the duration, and they gave me Scott here.” He raised his arm not occupied by the woman to Scott's shoulder, and the boy tittered nervously, “and he told me you're his absolute favorite student artist on campus.” Aldous turned to watch Cosima's reaction.

 

“Wow. Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” He blushed and looked down at the floor, literally scuffing the floor with the toe of his shoe. She half expected him to huff out a “golly, thanks.” but he simply muttered out a near-unintelligible. “No problem.”

 

Aldous smiled at the two of them briefly before continuing. “I see why he feels so strongly about your work. What materials did you use for this?”

 

“Oh. Um,” Cosima was back in Professional Artist mode, clicking easily back into the practiced explanation of her methodology. “Aside from art, my passion is actually biology. I got really interested in Evolutionary Development and actually thought I'd go to school for it for a while.” Aldous let out an interested hum, still studying the painting and clearly waiting for the information he'd actually asked for. The woman next to him, however, was watching her, smooth and cool as ice, with her full attention. “Anyway, I brought the things I learned in the laboratory to my art. So, my materials are actually chemicals you could find in any high school science lab. What you're looking at is actually essentially a series of chemical reactions expressed on canvas.”

 

“That's highly experimental of you, Cosima.” Aldous turned his full attention to her now. “And you certainly have some interesting colors and patterns happening. I like,” he reached forward, hand lingering a safe distance from the canvas, tracing the shapes in the air, “the way this shape here seems part human, part mushroom cloud.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“But I have to wonder—what did you want to say with this? I mean, really? It's a cool concept, but to be a good artist, you need more than a gimmick.” Aldous was watching her with a sly smile, clearly attempting to catch her, as though she weren't as smart as she seemed, and the woman next to him cocked her head to the side just the tiniest bit, bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

 

“Of course.” Cosima brought a hand up, crossing her right arm over her chest to rub the tension out of her left shoulder, pondering the right way to answer the question without sounding like an idiot, or worse—one of her peers, all big words and Nietzche quotes and art history without any substance. “I'm glad you noticed the mushroom cloud and the human form, because that was a big part of what I was going for. I guess I wanted to explore the Cartesian duality in society, and also in myself. Like, I'm a scientist on the one hand, and an artist on the other. In science, things like passion, emotion, even sex are seen as a series of chemical reactions. Everything we do, everything we are, is a series of neurotransmitters and receptors. But as an artist, I see the world in broad strokes of color. The what is far more important than the why or how. And all of those things are these beautiful expressions of humanity. One approach strips the soul away completely, and the other romanticizes it.” She paused, stroking her chin. “And I guess I'm not sure where I fall on that spectrum, or what I believe about it. I don't know if I can privilege the mechanism over the actual experience, or vise versa. You know?”

 

“C'est belle.” This was the first time Leekie's escort had spoken, and it had been in the most perfect accent, quiet and somewhat wonderstruck. She was a dreamer, an art lover for sure, but definitely not an artist herself. “Pardon, I meant to say that in English, but I forgot for a second. The painting is beautiful.” Though, Cosima noted, she hadn't looked at the painting since Cosima had started speaking.

 

“Thank you, Ms...” She trailed off, holding her hand out.

  
“Cormier. But please, call me Delphine.” Her French accent was more pronounced now, subtle ways her tongue flicked in her mouth just slightly differently than others; odd inflections that made Cosima wonder what that tongue would feel like flicking against her neck instead.

 

_Fuck. Leekie's girlfriend, Cosima. Definitely off-limits. Don't fuck this up._

 

Delphine grasped her hand, their skin sliding against one another and making Cosima uncomfortably happy in a way a handshake and eye contact never should be able to.

 

“Enchante.” Cosima was trying to be smooth, using one of the few French words she'd picked up in her life. Damn, why had she studied Latin in high school? Right. Science nerd. Duh.

 

Delphine chuckled, throaty and low. “Yes. Moi aussi.”

 

Scott cleared his throat, once again tugging Cosima out of a lust-induced stupor and flicked his eyes toward Aldous, who was back to studying the painting. He raised his eyebrows urgingly. Hell, she could practically hear his voice in her head. _Dude, what are you doing? This guy is major_. She dropped her hand back to her side, finally releasing Delphine's.

 

“And what do you think, Mr. Leekie?” He glanced back up at her, smiling widely.

 

“I absolutely love it, Cosima. In fact,” He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small card, glanced at it, then put it back and fished out a different one. “I'd like you to keep in touch with me. I may have some opportunities this summer you'd be interested in. You'll be graduating in June, right?” After making sure it was the correct one, he held it out to her.

 

She nodded. “Yeah. Wow.” She took the card, and turned it over in her hand. This was a personal card. It had his name, but no title, and that email? Definitely not the MoMA's. “Thank you so much, Mr. Leekie, thats incredible.”

 

“That's my cell phone number, so please be sure it stays between us, okay?” He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I'll see you around.” He turned and started to walk away, with Scott scuttling after him.

 

Cosima let out a harsh breath, glancing down at the card again. _How the fuck did that just happen?_ She glanced up, wanting to be sure it was real, that she wasn't imagining things. And there he was, standing in front of a different piece of work, studying it with attention. Scott was stammering on about something, and Delphine... Delphine was looking straight at her. Their eyes connected, and Cosima's breath hitched. And just like that, Delphine's attention was back to the painting.

 

_This has to be a fucking dream._

 

“Wow, Cosima. That was so incredible!” Right. Existentialism girl.

 

Cosima turned back to her and smiled, shrugging. "Yeah. Wow." At least she wouldn't be going home alone tonight.


	2. Hey Willy

Leekie was back in New York, but his young, extremely beautiful girlfriend was not. In fact, this was maybe the third time Cosima had seen her out and about since that night at the gallery. The first time, she was walking by with a group of people on campus, arguing passionately about something—Cosima couldn't make out the words, but she could tell it was an avid disagreement by the frown pulling down at the corners of her lips, and the ways in which her hands seemed to strike at the air. And then, she was gone. Cosima told herself it was probably someone else. The second time, she'd been out at a bar, and saw her nuzzling kisses into the neck of one of Cosima's classmates. But no, it couldn't have been was hanging on Leekie's arm and, besides, Leekie's ingenue had been flirting with her. Definitely. There's no way Cosima had made that tension up, and there is absolutely no way this person had been on campus this whole time without Cosima noticing. But when she'd been dragged to a lecture on the future of art technology by Scott, she'd seen her again, in the row in front of her. The curls were unmistakeable, and unfortunately, so was the chiseled face of her classmate, Paul.

"Fuck." The word came out accidentally, half a groan, and half an exhale.

"What's wrong?" Scott interrupted his ramble about computers or something (he was _always_ defending his right to use computers to make art and railing against "purists"), to question her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Sorry. Computers." She let her hand drop to the small fold-out desktop in front of her. The smack of her hand against the notebook combined with the loud jangle of her bracelets was louder than ideal, but she'd gotten used to being stared at a long time ago. Well, stared at by most people. But then the curls turned around to reveal a face—Delphine's face—yep, definitely her. Damnit. She smiled and waved, and Delphine returned it gleefully.

"Bonjour! Cosima, right?" The lecture hall was loud, but Delphine's voice had not lost the light, soft, lilting quality it had in the gallery.

"Hey. Yeah. And you're Delphine." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "Hi." _Smooth._ "Um, I didn't know you went to school here?"

"Oh, yes." She shifted to be able to look at Cosima more naturally. "I am in a hybrid art history/museum studies course."

"Oh." That would explain the way she'd looked at Cosima's artwork. Like she was an artist, yet just slightly outside of the loop. "Cool. I thought you and Leekie were..." She trailed off, arm hanging mid-gesture in the air, suddenly realizing how awkward and so none of her business that question was.

"Yes. Um, well, he came to speak to one of my classes, and I asked him some questions afterward, and he invited me to finish the conversation that night over dinner." She shifted uncomfortably. "Of course, who says no to free dinner with a brilliant man?"

"Yeah, no. Definitely not me. For sure." Cosima cleared her throat, lifting her body and resettling it in her chair. Nope, still uncomfortable. "So, you want to curate?"

Delphine's eyes lit up. "Oui. Art is my passion," she glanced down at her hands, the thumb of one rubbing the palm of the other mercilessly, "but I am unfortunately not very gifted when it comes to the actual production."

"I get that. I think people that appreciate art arejust as important as people who produce it." _Not true._ "Curators are super important." _Super not true._ Cosima hated the idea of someone who couldn't pick up a paintbrush critiquing the work of someone who could do incredible things with it.

"Merci, Cosima. That means a lot coming from someone as talented as you are."

But who could be honest about that sort of thing when they had someone this earnest about art smiling at them, especially someone who appreciated their art? If anyone could, Cosima was definitely not that person.

"I'm just really glad you enjoyed it."

"Niehaus?" Paul had finally turned around, and was now shaking his head. "Her art's okay." He let out a little snort. "It'd be better if you could relax enough to refine your detail work."

"Sorry, Paul, but I'm not interested in painting photorealistically. I don't think the world needs any more 'nudes in repose number 4's." She shot back, rolling her eyes.

Delphine shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering back and forth between the two.

"Whatever. Don't get upset at me because I can paint the human body in _exquisite detail_ and you can't." He shook his head, and turned forward, attempting to end the conversation.

"What's a body without heart? You paint dead eyes." She shot back, anger mounting in her chest. "Unless your models are actually your blow-up doll collection."

"Fuck you, Niehaus." He snapped, turning back around suddenly. "You're just jealous I have a career when I'm done here and you don't."

"You're right," she leaned forward, waving her hands dramatically in front of her in mock surrender,  
"I'm just super eager to sell out to the highest bidder."

"Stoner hippie cunt." Paul snapped, turning back around, teeth clenched tightly together.

"Kiss-ass sellout frat boy." Cosima leaned back, crossing her arms petulantly across her chest.

"Well, okay." Delphine chuckled nervously. "I guess you two know each other, then?"

Cosima remained silent, grinding her teeth together in an attempt not to show just how bitter she could get when she's angry. Delphine sighed, and turned back around. "All right, then." Cosima could only watch with frustration when she reached across to grasp Paul's hand, shooting him a sympathetic smile.

And then it hit her: _Delphine is nude in repose number 4._

* * *

It was an uncharacteristically hot March day—the kind that had everyone in the city wearing short shorts and blasting lazy hip hop out of their open car windows—and Cosima was hell-bent on taking full advantage of the beautiful weather. She was at her favorite coffee shop, with two of her favorite people, playing one of her favorite people watching games.

"Okay, Okay. What about him?"Felix leaned forward conspiratorially, raising his eyebrows and catching his lower lip between his teeth.

"Uh, no." Cosima laughed, shaking her head and waving her hands in front of her. "Definitely not."

"Really?" Felix leaned back, sneaking another look at the man as he walked by. "Come on, maybe just a little bit? Look at that walk! And the hair."

"I think he's hella Brooklyn, but I don't think he likes dick, Fe. Sorry." She leaned back, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "I'd bang him, though."

"You would not." Sarah snorted from where she was crouched beside them, lowering her camera for just a minute to be sure Cosima could see her mockery clearly. "You're too obsessed with that frog you met the other night."

"I'm not obsessed." Cosima crossed her arms over her chest and let out a little huff. "She's just really cool, is all, and Paul is just such an asshole. I don't get the appeal, you know?"

 _Click._ Sarah's snapped a picture of Cosima, then lowered it again to cock an eyebrow.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Sarah. I always forget you dated him."

_Click._

"Actually, you know what? No, I'm not sorry. I like Cal so much more."

Sarah laughed, letting go of the camera so that it hung heavily around her neck. "It's all right, Cos. I was just messing with you. I mean, the bastard cheated on me. But," she rose to reclaim her seat, "I still maintain you're stuck on that French girl."

"Am not." Cosima pulled a pack of rolling tobacco out of her bag, and began laying out everything she needed. "I went on a date the other night," she waved an arm vaguely, eyes still focused on the spliff she was rolling, "with Billie. From the gallery."

"Right." Felix chimed in this time, rolling his eyes. "And when we asked you about it, you said it was 'fine.' Not exactly the waxing poetic we're used to from you."

"Okay, so it wasn't the greatest date. Whatever. That doesn't mean I'm stuck on Delphine." Cosima licked the side of the rolling paper, carefully pressing the seam together.

"Why would you be 'stuck' on me?"

The question made her jump out of her skin.

"Delphine!" The spliff dropped to the ground. "Hi. I, um, they were just giving me shit about what happened with Paul the other day, and I, um, I just—I'm really sorry about all of that. He just knows how to get under my skin, you know?" Cosima was talking to Delphine, but not really looking. Instead, she was searching the ground for her lost smoke.

"It's okay, Cosima."

She popped back up, placing the found object behind her ear for later. "No. Really. I was," she swallowed, slicing the air with her hand, "completely out of line. I hope it didn't make you think any less of me."

Delphine reached over the barrier that separated the outdoor seating of the coffee shop from the sidewalk and covered Cosima's hand, immediately calming her. "It is completely fine. Paul was out of line, as well. I told him that I wanted to be your friend, and that if he wanted to continue dating me, he needed to act like an adult."

"Really?" Cosima's lips cracked open to reveal her teeth. "Thanks. Hey, do you want to join us? Sarah here," she hooked her thumb in the direction of her friend, "is in the middle of a photography project, and we were gonna drive out to the river so she can work on it."

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to impose..." She didn't have time to trail off suggestively, because Cosima jumped to assure her.

"No. You wouldn't be imposing at all. Really. We'd love it if you came." She turned to her friends. "Right, guys?"

Felix rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair. "I can't think of anything I'd like more."

"Whatever you want, Cos." Sarah affirmed.

Cosima looked up at Delphine, smiling widely. "See? They're thrilled."

Delphine laughed. "Okay. I am in." The slang sounded awkward in her accent. "A day at the river sounds like a fantastic break from themountain of homework I came here to work on."

"Awesome."

The two held eye contact, caught up in one another's smile. Cosima realized Delphine's hand was still on hers.

_Click._


	3. Forrest Gump

"So, you're from Paris?"

Sarah, 20 feet away, was busy posing Cosima in various states of undress as she stripped to get ready to splash into the water.

"Wait, wait." She called, voice muted by their distance. "Keep your arms just like that."

"Sarah, I can't see." Cosima was bent over slightly, shirt off her body, but still tangled in her arms and around her neck.

"Just one more second, Cos!"

"Hurry up, will ya?" Cosima's laughter echoed off the trees and rebounded back to the group.

_Click._

Cosima pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and flung it off to the side, glasses slightly askew, shooting a toothy grin at Delphine.

"Delphine?" Felix repeated, touching her elbow lightly.

"Oh, merde!" She jumped, turning to him and laughing off her sudden anxiety. "I am sorry, Felix. What did you say?"

"I said, what is Paris like? Did you hang out with a lot of artists there?" Felix was already stripped down to his boxer briefs, which cut off at the very tops of his thighs. He was so much more muscular than Delphine would have guessed.

"Oh, yes. I suppose you could say that." She pushed a lock of curls out of her eyes, flickering her gaze to the ground. "My father is very involved in the art world."

"Yeah?" Felix asked absentmindedly as they began making their way down to where Cosima was attempting to wrestle Sarah into the water, and Sarah was attempting to keep her very expensive camera out of it. "What does he do?"

"He is a dealer. He has his own gallery." She was acutely aware that Felix had entirely stopped moving and instead of walking next to her was now frozen a few paces behind her. She stopped, waiting anxiously for him to freak out. They all did, when they finally make the connection.

"Oh, my god. Your father is Marc Cormier, isn't he?" It was not a question.

"Yes." She turned, putting on her most pleasant smile. This was her least favorite part of art school. This moment, right here. This explosion of anxiety and the ensuing professionalism—attempts to woo her or win her over.

A wet arm wrapped around her, cutting off the moment, and while she was grateful she didn't have to deal with Felix's response, she was less grateful that Cosima had almost accidentally tackled her and was now using her as a human shield against Sarah's attacks.

"What's the matter, Cosima? You can dish it out, but you can't take it?" Sarah shouted, faking one way, then suddenly trying to move around the other side of Delphine to get at Cosima.

"It's not my fault you're too slow to catch me, old lady!" Cosima shouted, as though the distance of Delphine's body was the grand canyon.

"Oh, too slow, eh?" Sarah launched herself forward, managing to catch Cosima's arm as she quickly dodged to the other side of Delphine. Cosima's momentum pulled Sarah sideways, and her shoulder slammed into Delphine, taking all three of them down into a pile.

Cosima, still laughing, let out a groan. "Ow. Nice, Sarah."

Her friend rolled over, removing herself from the tangle of limbs and lifted herself up onto her elbows. "That was entirely your fault, you know that, right?"

"What? No way!" Cosima lifted herself partially as well, glancing down at Delphine, who was picking sticks and leaves off of herself. She rolled onto her side to get a better view of Delphine's face. "Hey, are you all right? I'm really sorry about that."

"Fine." She muttered. She wanted to be angry, really, but Cosima's amused smirk had a way of making the aching in her limbs dissipate into a light tingling. Besides, they were practically cuddling. How could she be mad?

_Wait, what?_

Felix clambered over, holding out a hand to Delphine. "Sorry about those two. For such brilliant artists, they really are bloody idiots." She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up. Away from Cosima, who let out a sigh. Why was that so disappointing? "And Cosima, why didn't you tell me Delphine was Marc Cormier's daughter? I made a total arse of myself earlier."

"You're Marc Cormier's daughter?" Cosima's face twisted. "I guess that makes sense."

"You didn't know." Sarah couldn't help it, it was too funny. Cormier was one of the biggest names in the art world, and her friend hadn't put two and two together. She started cracking up, tossing a handful of dry leaves at Cosima and pushing herself to her feet.

Cosima wiped them from her bare stomach and joined in Sarah and Felix's laughter. "What?" They both started laughing harder, Sarah grabbing onto Felix's shoulder to stay upright. "I just thought she was hella cool when I met her. I wasn't thinking about who her Dad was."

"You're clueless, Cos." Sarah took a few gulps of air to return her breathing to normal. "Come on, let's go get in the river. It's hot as balls out here." She and Felix traipsed off to the river bank and climbed in, breaking out some of the hard ciders they'd brought along from Sarah's bag as they went.

Cosima caught sight of Delphine watching her, head tilted slightly to the side, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. "I'm sorry I'm such a dork." She felt herself blushing, half naked and covered in dirt, still laying on the ground. She reached for her bag, which laid a few feet away and pulled the spliff she'd rolled earlier and a lighter out.

"It's okay." Delphine moved back over, taking a seat next to her on the forest floor. "It's refreshing to be appreciated for who I am, not who I'm connected to."

Cosima blew a puff of smoke out and tossed her lighter on top of her bag. "How could anyone not appreciate you?" She held the spliff out, and Delphine took it, bringing it to her lips. "You're incredible."

Delphine let the smoke trickle out through her nose, shrugging. "You would be surprised how often people try to use me for my father." After a beat, she added. "What is this? It tastes odd."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't know me that well yet." She reached over to take it and hit it again. "It's, uh, it's a spliff." The words were high and tight as she attempted to hold the smoke in while she spoke, her words coming out in clouds of tobacco and marijuana.

"A... spliff?" Delphine eyed the small white cigarette with interest. "I don't think I know it."

Cosima laughed. "Oh. Right. Slang. Um, it's a cigarette with pot in it." She shook her head suddenly, "Er, uh, marijuana."

"I know what pot is." Delphine chuckled, taking the spliff back and turning it around in her hands. "I've never..." She trailed off, bringing it hesitantly up to her lips again.

"Shit, really? Don't feel pressured, Delphine. I'm so sorry." She reached for it, but Delphine batted her hand away.

"No, I want to, with you. I trust you."

Cosima's toothy grin was back. "Cool."

They smoked silently for a minute, enjoying the nearness of one another and the almost silence of the forest. The sound of Felix and Sarah's conversation, much more subdued than Cosima and Sarah's earlier, beat a rhythmic flow in the distance, accompanied by the occasional call of a bird or rustle of leaves blown by the wind. Delphine let her head fall back, exposing her neck to the air.

"I think I feel it." She was mumbling, the words seeming more foreign in her mouth than ever before. As she spoke, the skin on her neck pulsed and contracted, and Cosima fought the urge to reach out and stroke it, feel the ribs of her throat beneath her fingertips, to press her lips so she could feel Delphine's hums and moans vibrate against them.

"You should prolly stop, then." Cosima's speech was getting more awkward, as well, and the words tumbled lazily from her lips. "It's gonna hit you pretty hard soon."

"Mmm. D'accord." Delphine laid the rest of the way down, settling her head against her arms, which she crossed as a pillow beneath her head. Her head felt heavy, and the wind set little sparks off across her skin. "It is so strange how one can be so hot in one place and so cold in another. It would seem they would cancel one another out, would it not?"

Cosima's laugh was harsh against the quiet, unintentional noises of the forest. "What are you talking about?"

"Feel." Delphine reached over, grasping Cosima's wrist and bringing it to her stomach, just below her navel. "Here is cold, yes?"

"Mmm-hmm." Cosima was perked up now, eyes drooping but vibrant.

Delphine pushed their hands lower, to a patch of sunlight that illuminated her hip bone like a spotlight. "And here is hot." It wasn't a question this time, her confidence bolstered by Cosima's compliance.

"Super hot." Cosima knew Delphine wouldn't pick up on the innuendo—not now, anyway—and she let it slip without censorship.

"But they are very near one another. Why does the heat not spread and warm the entire body? How is it possible that one can be very cold in one spot and very hot in another?" Delphine shook her head. "Skin is such a strange organ." She didn't wait for an answer, her mind already captivated with something else. "You have a tattoo." She sat up, letting Cosima retreat a little, and curving her upper body to view her wrist more clearly.

"Uh, yeah. You didn't know?" Cosima smirked, turning her wrist to make the nautilus more visible. "Do you want to touch it?"

"As long as you do not mind..." Delphine raised her eyebrows, the fine hairs curving around the bone.

"Not at all. Some people swear it feels different, but it's always seemed the same to me." She laid her arm out, the sensitive skin of her wrist bared and resting atop her ribcage.

"Did it hurt?" Delphine was tracing the shell's spiral with her thumb, starting in the middle and spiraling out, then stopping and reversing the process. Over, and over, and over...

"Not really." Cosima cocked her head to the side, eyeing the ink thoughtfully. "But it was right on a tendon, so it made me twitch." She jerked her fingers, laughing at the memory.

Delphine was laughing, too, and she wrapped her hand around Cosima's fingers to still them. "When did you get it?"

"Sixteen." There may have been an "I was" or "I think" in front of the word, but if so it was slurred out of recognition.

"Eighteen is the age of legality, is it not?" Delphine's brow had plummeted now, nadir to its acme, yet her hand was back to its same repetitive notion of spiraling in and out.

"Yeah, it is. But I was fucking the artist, so..." Cosima rolled her eyes at her own youth, smile perking at her lips despite her not wanting it.

"Mmm." Delphine hummed her agreement, glancing from the Nautilus to Cosima's face. "I have a tendency toward that, as well."

"Yeah. Well, I wasn't an artist back then. Now I mostly fuck people who fuck artists."

Delphine's laugh didn't seem out of place here at all, wasn't harsh like Cosima's. "I hope you don't think less of me for doing so. It has always been a weakness I have."

"No, not at all." Cosima's left hand waved a truce in the air. "God bless you, someone's gotta put up with assholes like me." Delphine was still laughing, probably more than was really appropriate given the idiocy of the joke but, well, weed is a funny drug. "Besides, I bet you're secretly an artist, aren't you? I bet you're a dancer. I could totally see that." Cosima pushed herself up more fully onto her elbow.

"No, I am a terrible dancer." Delphine had stopped laughing but still smiled, cheeks aching from the strain of it. "You simply think that because I am tall."

"And European. Don't forget that." Cosima was smiling, too, and reaching a hand up to brush hair out of Delphine's face (there was nothing out of place to brush) and letting it linger on her neck. "All tall Europeans are dancers, right?"

"Yes. Absolument."

"But really, what do you do? Sculpture? Singing? Writing?" On the last one, Delphine glanced back down at Cosima's tattoo, now lingering next to her chin. "Writing. Fiction, memoir, or poetry?"

"Poetry, mostly freeform." Delphine sighed, shifting away slightly and glancing at her bag next to Cosima's a few feet away. "It is not very good, though."

"I don't believe you." Cosima shook her head. "Read some to me. Please?"

"It is in French, Cosima." Delphine chuckled, eyes suddenly dulled yet vibrant with a pain Cosima had never thought possible in someone with such a privileged life.

"Even better, I won't know if it's good or not. I just want to hear you read it. It's the most incredible thing, to listen to writers read their work."

Delphine considered this for a second, matching the words with the expression. "D'accord. For you, Cosima." She crawled over to her bag, pulling out a notebook and shifting to lean against a nearby tree. Cosima pulled herself forward so that she could rest her head on Delphine's lap. Fingers traced the space between her dreads on her scalp, fingering the rough mattes, then returning to trace the hollows and protrusions of her skull.

She was right. The poetry was of a French Cosima couldn't fathom, with words so foreign-sounding, she wouldn't have been able to guess what they meant. Until now, the little phrases Delphine had used were understandable with her rudimentary understanding of the language. But now, she was at a loss; drifting helplessly along the grumbles and lilts of Delphine's voice, letting her affect her through—well, her affect.

"It's lovely, Delphine." She murmured when the speaking stopped, slowly opening her eyes to take in Delphine, who was looking over at another tree, the eraser end of a pencil slowly getting gnawed away at in her mouth. "Don't stop."

Delphine looked down at her as though she'd forgotten Cosima was there. "Oh. I wanted to write some of this down. Sorry, I got distracted."

"Did you just recite all of that? Like, just made it all up?" Cosima marveled at her. "That's fucking incredible, Delphine."

"Thank you, Cosima. But really, you could not understand it. I promise it is not very good." She snapped the notebook shut and nudged Cosima's head with her knee. Cosima sat up, resting her weight on an arm she crossed over Delphine's legs so they were facing one another, just a small ways apart.

"Oi! Are you two gonna join us, or are you _still_ pretending you're not gonna shag?" Sarah's voice, shrill from being hollered, interrupted Cosima's attempt to formulate a reply.

"Oh, God. You better not make my car smell like twat!" Felix this time, "lesbian sex smells so... musty."

Cosima laughed, shaking her head and moving to stand. "We should probably head over to-"

"Hey." Delphine's eyes had regained her sparkle, and she held Cosima's arm so that she remained still. "Would you like to mess with them?"

"Always." Cosima smirked her best 'up to no good' smirk and awaited instructions. "What are we going to-?" But no instructions were given, no plans made. Only lips and a sudden outburst of hooting and hollering from the banks of the river. The kiss wasn't sexy; not tender, or even sweet. It was uncomfortable, tight lips pressed against her own, too roughly, spread thinly over teeth which knocked together at the contact, but it fooled the pair sitting far away and, well, Cosima throbbed from the proximity and the thought that _fuck. Delphine just kissed me. Like, intentionally._

"Come, chere." Delphine had pulled away, and was letting her hand, which had at some point tangled into Cosima's, slip out of her grip like a shoelace coming untied.

Cosima grasped it before it disappeared. "Hey, Delphine." She was standing now, but turned with pursed lips and arched brows to hear Cosima's words. "Do you want to hang out sometime?"

She smiled. "Yes. I do." Cosima fished her phone out of her bag, took down Delphine's number, and promised to text her so that Delphine had hers, as well.

"I will cook you dinner." Delphine promised as they began to walk toward the bank, grabbing Cosima's hand cheekily and letting it swing between them.

"No, you definitely don't want to do that." Cosima promised, letting their hands fit together so easily, wondering how it was possible that it didn't feel the least bit strange. "You're French, and I'm vegan. Bad combo."

"Why is that a bad... combo?" She tried the word out. "That is short for combination, correct?"

"Yeah." Cosima was getting so used to those little moments she barely noticed them anymore, brushing them aside with a short _so cute_ in her mind. "I mean, French food is all butter and cheese and meat, right?"

They reached the bank, and Delphine dropped her hand. "Believe it or not, Cosima, French food is not the only thing I know how to cook. I promise you will love it, okay?"

"Okay. If you say so."


	4. Halo

Cosima placed the fork carefully on the edge of the plate, leaning back in her chair and taking up her glass of wine instead. "You were right, Delphine." She broke the silence they'd been sitting in while eating, rubbing absentmindedly at her full stomach, stretching her legs out under the table. _I think I might be a little drunk._ "This was amazing." Their eyes connected, Delphine pulling her fork out of her mouth and placing it onto her plate as well. She pushed the ceramic off to the side so she could put her elbows in its place. "You're amazing." _I was not planning on saying that out loud._ _Yep, definitely drunk._

Delphine swallowed the bite, the corner of her lip quirking upward. "Thank you, Cosima. You are amazing, as well." She picked up her own wine glass, bringing it to her lips. "But you already know that."

"Oh, come on. I'm not that much of an asshole, am I?" Cosima smiled, but she was half terrified it was true—or maybe the terror was coming from the way Delphine's eyes were sparkling as she watched her, promising danger. She glanced out the window at the building across the street to relieve the anxiety, it was one of those new developments that had panels of primary colors contrasted with sleek steel bars and concrete. Cosima wondered what it looked like on the inside, who lived there.

"No. Not at all." She snapped her attention back to Delphine, finding her teasing her own lip with her teeth. _Damn, that's hot. "_ Although," Delphine pressed, leaning back again, cocking her head to the side slightly, "I suppose I don't actually know you that well. We seem to have skipped the normal getting to know one another."

Cosima took up Delphine's former position, surging forward as she pulled back, placing her elbows on either side of her empty plate. "Well, what do you want to know?" Her shoulders pulled upward in an uncoordinated shrug, as though they couldn't communicate as to whether they wanted to move forward or back or straight up.

"Hmm. How about books?"

"Mostly non-fiction. Mostly science textbooks." She laughed. "Okay, I swear I'm not as geeky as that makes me sound."

"You read textbooks for fun, but you are not geeky." Delphine repeated it back, to make sure Cosima had heard herself.

"Yeah. I mean, okay. Maybe I'm just, like, a tiny bit geeky." She waved a hand in front of her face. "But only in the best way. How about you?"

"Well, most of it is French. I don't particularly care for reading in English." Delphine admitted, shrugging. "And reading French translations is distracting because I spend much of the time feeling as though the translation must be wrong and then I want to read it in English..." She trailed off, frowning. "So I simply do not do it. But when I'm not reading about art, I enjoy historical fiction."

"Okay. Fair enough. So, you read French Harlequin novels." The way Cosima said it sounded so matter-of-fact, Delphine couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"What is a Harlequin novel?"

"Oh. Like, romance novels? With Fabio on the cover, you know?" She struck a pose to show off her romantic heroism, raising one eyebrow in what she hoped approached some semblance of hunkiness.

Delphine laughed in a loud burst, bringing her hands to her mouth to cover it. "No. Definitely not those."

"Okay, okay. How about music?" She perked up suddenly, eyes lighting behind her glasses. "Let me guess, Brigitte Bardot. Like, exclusively sex symbols from the 60s."

"I do enjoy Brigitte Bardot, but does not everyone?" Delphine shrugged, placing her wine glass on the table. "She was an international superstar."

"You mean 'doesn't everyone,' I think." She shook her head. "I mean, I guess 'does not everyone' is technically correct, but it sounds a little off."

"Ah, thank you."

"No problem. But yeah, of course. I mean, I know who she is and I'm not exactly up on French culture. So, what do you listen to, then?"

"Pretty much all music." She brought a shoulder to her ear and let it drop. "I love The Cure. Especially that one song, um, it was very popular." She snapped, trying to remember the name of it. "Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick." She began to sing, smile widening as she did.

"'The one that makes me scream,' she said." Cosima joined in, laughing. "Yeah. Just Like Heaven. Totally. Great song."

"I always have felt that song perfectly captures the feeling of being in love." Delphine was looking down at her hands, then up to Cosima, then back down.

_Is that an 'I want to kiss you right now' face? That's totally a 'kiss me' face._

"Mmm." Delphine brought her wine glass to her lips, suddenly, then added, "What I do not much enjoy is, um, how is it called? It sounds like sexing music."

Cosima dammed her laughter behind a smirk, the muscles around her mouth twitching in effort. "Sexing music?"

"Yes. Like, very slow tempo and singers who sound as though they are moaning." Delphine's brow crinkled. She perked up suddenly. "Comme LL Cool J. All of my friends liked him very much when we were young. I-I cannot remember what the genre is called."

"Do you mean r&b?" Cosima was all licking lips and sparkling eyes now. "Oh, you have to let me play some stuff for you. I promise you'll like it."

"Okay." When Cosima simply raised her eyebrows at Delphine, she added "now?"

"Yeah, now!" Cosima pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Do you have a speaker system I can plug this into?"

"Uh, yes. In the bedroom." Delphine stood, grabbing at her elbow.

Cosima stood as well, letting Delphine lead her to the other room. "Gosh, Delphine." She couldn't help but tease her just a little. "Taking me to your bedroom, and it's only the second date!"

Delphine rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, turning her head slightly to be sure Cosima could see it from behind her, but said nothing. She stopped at the speaker system and fiddled with it until a dull static hum filled the room.

"I mean, usually I have a three-date rule, but I guess I could make an exception for you." Cosima continued the joke, glancing around the room, taking in the décor. Lots of black and white, with clean lines. An accent wall. Very chic and modern. These were all things she noticed, but they were the last thing on her mind.

Delphine turned, finding Cosima very close to her, but engrossed in her surroundings. "Well?" She held a hand out for the phone, smiling.

"Oh! Here you go." Cosima handed her phone over thoughtlessly, dragging her eyes back over to Delphine, who turned to plug in the device. She teetered up on her tiptoes to glance over Delphine's shoulder, pointing to the song she wanted her to play. "Press that one there. I've been obsessed with this song lately." It clicked on, the sound of it filling the room completely. "I love this kind of music. It just makes you wanna dance, you know?"

"How does one dance to this?" Delphine shook her head, turning back to face Cosima who had begun wandering around the room, swaying her hips side to side as she inspected all the art on Delphine's walls. It was an impressive collection, gifts from her father, no doubt. "It is so slow and... it feels lazy."

Cosima turned back to her. "It's easy, I'll teach you. I swear, you're gonna love r&b when I'm done with you."

"Okay."

Cosima placed her own wine glass down, and took Delphine's from her, putting it next to hers on the nightstand. "It's all in the hips." She put an arm around Delphine's neck, letting her hips swing naturally to the music. Delphine mirrored her movements, tentatively placing first just her fingertips on Cosima's hips but slowly letting her palms flatten against her. Her eyes focused down on where Cosima was moving.

Cosima's lips were burning, aching. She let her tongue swipe across them, trying to cool them and also to satisfy the urge for them to occupy themselves elsewhere. Her eyes flickered from Delphine's eyes down to her mouth. _God, it's shaped perfectly. Is that a weird thing to tell someone? Fuck._ Luckily, she was so busy watching Cosima dance she hadn't noticed her staring.

"Hey." Cosima brought a hand to Delphine's chin, nudging it upward. "Eyes are up here." Her heart dropped, suddenly realizing how culturally specific that joke probably was.

But if Delphine was offended or confused, she didn't show it. Instead, a slight flush raised to her cheeks. "I was simply studying your technique, Cosima."

Now Cosima was blushing, too, and she turned around to hide it, holding onto one of Delphine's hands and using it to pull her right up against her back. She licked her lips again, feeling the blood rushing to them, her body subconsciously readying them for Delphine's. Her hips were still swaying to the music, and she turned her head so Delphine could hear her. "Is that what they call it in France?"

"You are such a..." Delphine rolled her eyes, beginning to pull away, just to be held in place by Cosima's arm still wrapped around hers. "Brat."

"Sure am. Come on, I thought you wanted to learn how to dance to slow jams." Cosima rolled her hips back, pressing them into Delphine.

"No, actually, I think you wanted to teach me." Delphine's voice was all breath in Cosima's ear, and her hips rolled again, this time without any input from her brain.

"You're not enjoying the lesson?" The song ended, and Cosima pulled away, released from the song's tension.

"I enjoyed it very much." Delphine let Cosima's hand slip off of hers, both limbs falling to their sides. "Thank you, Cosima. And the music, I enjoyed that, as well."

The next song clicked on.

"So, do you want me to leave it on, or...?" Cosima was moving toward the speakers, suddenly realizing what she was doing. She was drunk in Delphine's bedroom playing sex music and fucking _grinding_ against her _._ Bad calls all around.

Delphine caught her elbow, and tugged her forward. "Yes, leave it on. Come sit with me." They fell onto her bed together, tumbling backward so they were laying side by side. Delphine's hair was sprawled out, some of it tickling Cosima's shoulder. "May I ask you another question, Cosima?"

"Mmm. Of course."

"I have been wondering since the first day I met you: why are you in art school? Why did you not study science?"

"Oh. Well, um, I wish I could say it was just a calling or a passion or something, but really both of them are. So... it's gonna sound stupid." she turned to Delphine briefly, catching her expression, then quickly returning her gaze to the ceiling, "I didn't have the grades to get into a good enough science program, but I did have the talent to get into a really great art school." She shrugged, ruffling sheets and dress fabric around her shoulders. "So I kind of just fell into it, I guess."

"That isn't stupid, Cosima. Though I find it hard to believe that you did not have good grades. You're very intelligent and very charming." Delphine turned her head to watch Cosima's face as she spoke.

"Yeah, about that. I-" She sat up, and twisted a hand into her dreads. "Okay. So, not a lot of people know this about me, but I don't want to lie to you or blow your question off, so if you could, like, not tell anyone, that would be-"

Delphine shifted onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow and subduing Cosima's stress with a hand on her shoulder. "Anything you tell me is safe, Cosima. I promise."

Cosima ventured a glance over her shoulder, taking in Delphine's furrowed brow and soft, concerned eyes. "Okay. So, I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen. I just have my GED."

"Why did you leave school? Did you not like it?" Delphine sat up now, not really knowing what she was getting into but knowing it wasn't easy for her new friend. She shifted closer, leaning back on a hand she let linger behind Cosima.

"Uh, no. I loved school, actually. It's just—sixteen was when my parents walked in on my girlfriend and I fucking on the bumper pool table in the rec room." She laughed, too loud and too harshly, then cleared her throat.

"They kicked you out?" Delphine didn't mean to sound as breathless or surprised as she did.

"No, not exactly. I mean, they said I had to stop seeing her, and they sent me to this therapist, who told me I was probably harboring some sort of childhood trauma or whatever." She waved a hand dismissively. "It wasn't that bad, really, my parents were atheists so it wasn't like a convent or self-flagellation or anything." She shifted, the entire bed shifting beneath her as well. "Anyway, I started hanging with a rougher crowd and skipping school so I could see my girlfriend and the fighting with my parents got worse and one day I just didn't go home. And I never really looked back, I guess." She cleared her throat again, gripping at the bedspread thoughtlessly.

"I'm sorry, Cosima."

"No, no. It's cool. Really. I don't need any pity. I mean, look at where I am now." She smiled, though it didn't light up her eyes the way it usually did. "I have a ton of support and I'm on track to be a successful artist. Couldn't ask for more."

"So, how did you become an artist? Were you always one?" Delphine had turned fully to Cosima now, hand stroking lightly at her exposed shoulder.

"No, actually. It's sort of a long story for another time but I, um, I got arrested." She laughed and Delphine noticed her eyes weren't glassy from the wine, as she'd initially thought, they were teary. "And the judge, in a bit of creative sentencing that probably saved my ass, told me I could either go to jail or I could join this youth art program." She wiped at the tears before they could fall from her eyes. "And the artist who ran it saw something in me. In Sarah and Felix, too, and she sort of took us in, you know? Supported us and pulled strings to get us into school." She wiped furiously at another tear with her wrist, pushing her glasses up just to have them flop back down once her arm moved.

Delphine moved from the bed to kneel in front of Cosima, grasping her hands and holding them still, away from the tears now streaking her face freely, her eyes searching, finding veiny red ones that begged to be ignored. "Let them fall."

Cosima rasped, looking off to the side, chest rattling as she breathed.

"Hey." Delphine's hands were firm, but surprisingly gentle as she moved them to Cosima's face, bringing their eyes back together. "It's okay." Her thumb wiped away a tear that had come to rest against it. "You are safe with me. I want to support you, if you'll let me."

"Why?" Cosima's voice was as raspy and rattling as her breaths. "You hardly know me."

"That is true, but I already feel as though we have known one another a long time."

Cosima nodded, eyes holding Delphine's steadily now. She leaned their foreheads together, only needing to slouch a little, and shut her eyes. Delphine brought one of her hands up to the back of Cosima's neck and closed her eyes as well, letting out a small hum of contentment.

"So, um," Cosima voice was hoarse and unsure, her neck feeling tight around her throat. "I think it's your turn to tell me something intensely personal and emotionally salient."

Delphine laughed, a short burst, and leaned back so that she was sitting on her feet. "Ah, I don't know." She stroked the grain of her jeans absentmindedly. "I had a pretty privileged life."

Cosima flashed back to the look on her face at the river, when she'd asked her to read her poetry. She could see it in perfect detail; the curve of her frown, echoed in lines that had formed on her cheeks and brow, and something unidentifiable in the eyes; shininess, maybe, or that indescribable quality of soul, of pain and experience.

"Who was the last person you read your poetry to?" She ventured, ducking her head a little more to try and catch Delphine's expression.

"You." She cleared her throat and stood, moving to the nightstand and taking up her wine glass where it had been partially forgotten until now.

"I meant before me." This was a side of Delphine she'd never seen before—Somehow, it seemed as though she stood up straighter, stretching her body to an even taller, more imposing height. She kept her back turned, though Cosima could make out the tight line of those lips which she'd thought so perfect and inviting just a few minutes ago.

Her hand flattened against the nightstand, and she leaned her weight onto it. "It is not a pleasant story, Cosima."

Cosima scooted over on the bed, close enough to reach out and grab Delphine's free hand, to trace the lines on her palm. "I still want to hear it." She tugged on the hand so Delphine would turn to face her. "I want to know you, the whole you, not just the pleasant parts."

"It was an ex-boyfriend." She sighed. "He was a brilliant artist, but he also had..." She rolled her eyes, cleared her throat, shifted to another foot. "Problems. Every now and then, he would need to be hospitalized. He would have, um—in French, they are called 'episodes psychotique.' I believe in English you call them 'breaks.'"

"Oh."

"Everyone told me that I should not be with him. That he was weird, or dangerous. But I felt he truly understood something about the world that we could not. He was loving and supportive of me as a person and an artist in ways no one else was. And his episodes were generally pretty far apart." She jumped as if jostled. "And he was never dangerous!" She assured. "Just usually very scared."

"What happened to him?" Cosima let her hand wander up to stroke Delphine's forearm.

"I left him. It all got to me, all the gossip and the hospitalizations, and not knowing if he was okay. I just needed some time to figure it all out, you know? But, he—he killed himself, before I got the chance." Suddenly the pressure in the room was overwhelming. "He didn't leave a note or say goodbye or anything." Now Delphine was crying and she wiped the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall. "I am sorry. It was so long ago."

Finally, Cosima stood. She pulled Delphine into her embrace, offering as much security as she could, letting her crumple around her smaller frame. "Don't be sorry. What was his name?"

"Ole." There was a beat and Delphine could feel Cosima tense slightly in her arms. Delphine began to laugh, tears still diffuse through the sound. "Not everyone in France is French, Cosima."

"I was totally not thinking that." Cosima pulled away, shaking her head.

"Yes, you were. You were expecting me to say 'Jean.'" Tears still shone in her eyes, but she smiled. "You silly Americans and your stereotypes." She leaned forward, pressing her lips to Cosima's forehead and letting them rest there a second. "Thank you."

* * *

The bar always felt dirty. The tabletops were laminated, but for some reason the glossy substance felt porous, as though it had never quite dried, giving the entire place a sticky feeling. The walls were all painted black, and large mirrors hung along one of them. The bar sat at the back, a slab of wood guarding a wall lined with bottles. Cosima could see it all from where she stood backstage, could see the people start to filter in, some of them strangers, some of them acquaintances.

"So, I hear you have a new friend." Cal was grinning, arms wrapped around Sarah's shoulders, his voice knocking Cosima back into the moment.

"Uh, yeah. Delphine. She's pretty cool." Her hands rubbed at the tense muscles on either side of her spine, rock solid in their fatigue.

"Oh, my, Cosima. Again?" Alison had one arm crossed over her ribcage, the elbow of the other propped up on it so she could stroke at her lips. It was a nervous habit she'd picked up when she quit smoking. "What about dating boys again? There was Hans. I liked Hans."

"You have a problem with our little Cos liking twat?" Felix piped in, raising an eyebrow from where he was leaned up against an amp.

"No. It's not like that. I obviously have no problem with that lifestyle." Her hand had moved to her chest, and she tented her fingertips over her heart. "I just think maybe it would help her to figure out the boundary between who is into her as a friend or a-a-a-" she stammered, waving the hand in a rolling motion, "a _special_ friend."

"What?" Felix was on the warpath now, standing. "You've never had an unrequited crush before? Never been friends with a guy then found out he was into you?"

"I didn't say that. And besides, this is my night—our night." She turned her head off to the side slightly, as though it would soften the blow of her words or make someone think she hadn't been the one to speak them. "Why can't we talk about the set we're gonna play or something?"

"Oi. It don't matter anyway, cause Frenchie's way into Cosima." Sarah interrupted, ignoring Alison and focusing the attention on her. "She just don't know it yet."

Cosima sighed, shifting to her other foot. "Look, for the record, no. Delphine is not into me. I'm into her because she's incredible and smart and beautiful, not because I can't discern sexual interest from friendly interest. And I will date a man again if I find one that I like. All right? Alison," She turned to her friend, smiling. "You're gonna do incredibly, okay? Break a leg, or whatever. I'm gonna go smoke."

The outside was a relief. The late winter/early spring heatwave had passed, leaving a biting chill to the air. There were other people out front, but mostly they ignored her, engrossed in their own conversation. Smoke hung thick around her, obscuring the very obvious smell of her weed. Not that anyone would have cared, anyway. She spent some time watching the moon, wishing the light pollution didn't leave the sky an empty, murky gray. Eventually, the high began to edge in on her consciousness and she put out her joint, stashing it in her pocket. She leaned back against the smooth, painted concrete wall and shut her eyes, letting the world fall away, if only for a few more moments.

"Bonsoir, Cosima. I did not expect to see you here." She'd felt her presence just a heartbeat before she'd spoken, and, as though it felt it could suspend the latter, she swore her heart had stopped beating until she opened her eyes and took in the sight of her, beautiful and dressed up in a tight black dress.

"Hey, Delphine." Her lips twitched slightly. "Paul."

"Niehaus." He nodded at her, pushing his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit. _No style or charm at all. What does she see in him?_ But she was leaned against his body, molded into it, as close to spooning as one can get while standing in public.

"Out to see the show?" Delphine was smiling, one hand held Paul's, and the other rose, hovered a few inches from Cosima's arm, and fell again.

"Yeah. Cal and Alison are friends of mine, so—you know, doing the moral support thing." She smiled as genuinely as she could, catching Delphine's hesitance from the corner of her eye, wishing she'd touched her.

"Oh! That's lovely, we are here because Paul is friends with Donnie." Delphine seemed pleased by this revelation, but Cosima wasn't really sure why. Donnie was cool enough, but not really worth getting excited about. Like, at all.

"Oh. Cool." She cleared her throat, and pushed herself straighter up against the wall.

"Okay. Well." She turned to Paul, smiling at him. "Ready to go inside, cheri?" She tilted her chin up to meet his lips, and he nodded his assent. "Bon. It was very nice to see you, Cosima."

"Yeah. You, too. Always."

Delphine brushed Cosima's arm, holding it in the loosest sense of the word, more steadying herself against it as she leaned in to place a kiss on either side of Cosima's lips. And then they moved off to pay their cover.

"All right. I'm not European or anything, but if my middle school French teacher wasn't a complete liar, you're supposed to kiss the air next to their cheeks." Cal was there, smiling, hands shoved in his pockets.

"That's what she did, Cal." Cosima cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. It was a shock—it would be every time—to have Delphine's lips so close to hers. She could feel the moisture from Delphine's breath still evaporating off the corner of her lip into the night air.

"If you say so." He leaned in, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell her because she'll be insufferable about it, but I think Sarah's right. She's into you." He leaned back again, shrugging. "But, you know, that's just my opinion." He began walking backward into the alley toward the stage door. "Felix told me to tell you he's saving you and him a table."

Of course, Delphine and Paul had seen Felix and chosen a table right next to him so that they could chat. And Sarah, who was Cosima's only chance at scaring Paul away, had promised to take promo shots for the band and had disappeared to get set up long ago

"Hey, everyone. We want to thank you for coming out tonight." Cal was speaking, sweat glistening in the stage lights.

"And, it's my special pleasure to let you all know we're going to premiere a new song tonight." Alison had pulled out her cello and was holding it between her legs. "It's a cover, which I suppose is a bit unceremonious." She brought her hands into position. "But here we go. This is dedicated to Donnie." She smiled out at the crowd, not knowing where he was in the glare of the lights.

She began plucking at the strings, letting the instrumental hang in the silence of the space for a while, holding the audience rapt before she began to sing.

_Remember those walls I built? Baby, they were tumbling down. They didn't even put up a fight, they didn't even make up a sound. I found a way to let you in, but I never really had a doubt. Standing in the light of your halo, I've got my angel now._

Cosima inhaled sharply, glancing over at Delphine who was staring at the stage, jaw clenched tightly.

_It's like I've been awakened, every rule I had you breaking, it's the risk that I'm taking. I ain't ever gonna shut you out. Everywhere I'm looking now, I'm surrounded by your embrace. Baby, I can see your halo. You know you're my saving grace. You're everything I need and more, it's written all over your face. Baby, I can feel your halo. Pray you won't fade away._

She and Paul had turned to one another, pressing their lips together, nuzzling into one another's neck. And Cosima's stomach flipped, knotting her intestines.

_Hit me like a ray of sun, burning through my darkest night. You're the only one that I want, think I'm addicted to your light. I swore I'd never fall again, but this don't even feel like falling. Gravity can't forget to pull me back to the ground again._

She turned her entire body in the other direction, letting out a quick exhale and finding herself face-to-face with Sarah's camera.

_Click._

She faced forward again, determined not to look as heartbroken as she felt.

_It's like I've been awakened, every rule I had you breaking. The risk that I'm taking. I ain't ever gonna shut you out. Everywhere I'm looking now, I'm surrounded by your embrace. Baby, I can see your halo. You know you're my saving grace._

Felix touched her arm, and pushed his drink toward her, raising his eyebrows.

_You're everything I need and more, it's written all over my face. Baby, I can see your halo, pray it won't fade away._

She downed the drink and was on her feet, pulling the rest of the joint from her pocket as Cal joined Alison to finish the song quietly behind her.

_I can feel your halo (away), I can see your halo (away), I can feel your halo (away), I can see your halo (away), I can feel your halo, I can see your halo, I can see your halo, I can feel your halo, I can see your halo, I can feel your halo, I can see your halo._

The applause was muffled by the soft _thunk_ of the door behind her, and she quickly lit up the joint. The bouncer glanced over at her when he smelled it, but apparently decided against saying anything because he returned to his conversation.

"Cosima!" It was Delphine, bursting through the door, hair stuck to her face from sweating in the dank room. "Are you okay?"

"What? I—Yeah." She cleared her throat, standing straight. "What are you doing out here? The show's not over yet."

"I know, but I noticed you left, and I was worried."

The words ached in her chest, and she looked to the sky again, wishing the tears would stop burning her eyes. _It's the cold_ , she told herself. _That's all._

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine." She waved, clearing some of the smoke between them. "Really."

They were in the middle of the next song now. One Cosima remembered vaguely but could not recall the name of.

"Are you sure? Because you looked very upset. You still do."

"I'm fine. Really." The joint hung from Cosima's mouth as she spoke, punctuating her sentence with the flick of her lighter.

"Are you sure this is not about Paul?" Delphine pushed, taking a step closer. "Because last time I saw you, you were spilling your secrets to me—in my bed, no less—and now it feels as though you are avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Delphine. Really. It's just, I—" Cosima was waving the roach around in the air, feeling the alcohol and the weed start to weigh on her brain again.

"Cos, we have to go." Sarah was the next to burst through the door, startling the bouncer almost off his stool. "I just got a call, Helena's in the hospital."

Cosima put out her joint with the toe of her military boot. "What? Fuck. What happened?"

Sarah swallowed, glanced over at Delphine, then looked at the ground. "She overdosed again."

"Shit. I thought she was clean." Cosima brought a hand to her forehead.

"So did I." Sarah's voice was barely a whisper. "Come on, I have to call us a cab."

"I can take you." It was Delphine, literally jumping to speak. Before Sarah could protest, she insisted. "It's no problem, really. My car is here, I have not been drinking. Just let me go tell Paul."

She disappeared into the club and Cosima placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "It's gonna be all right, Sarah. She'll get through this, okay?"

"I really hope you're right, Cos."

A nurse that Cosima had worked with at the youth program (one condition of her getting into art school had been that she paid back her debt to the program) had let them onto the roof, sensing Cosima's frazzled nerves. Sarah had disappeared into a hospital room being the only relative Helena technically had, and Felix had weaseled his way in by proving he was Sarah's brother. The night had gone from chilly to cold and, while Cosima was aware of the dull pain that it caused, she didn't really feel any of it.

"Are you okay?" Delphine was watching her closer than she ever had before, dropping her second cigarette of the night to the ground and smothering it softly with her toe. "You haven't spoken since we came up here."

Cosima's jaw clenched then unclenched, her teeth grinding together. "Yeah, I'm fine. I don't—" she felt a sob break in her throat. "I don't feel much of anything."

Delphine took a few steps forward until she stood directly in front of Cosima. "What can I do? I've never seen you look so—" She trailed off, letting the words hang between them.

"So what?" Cosima was looking up at her through her eyelashes, face streaked with tears that had fallen silently, without emotion.

"So empty?" The words came out as a question, and Delphine ran a hand through her hair. "Cosima, it's frightening me a little."

"I'm sorry." She glanced down at her hands, flicking the roach in her hands off the side of the roof. "I'm sorry." Another sob cracked her facade and she went up to hide her face. Her hands were beaten there by Delphine's, which tilted her face up.

"Don't be sorry, Cosima. You've done nothing wrong. I care so much for you. Please let me in."

She wasn't really sure how it had happened. One second she was looking into Delphine's eyes-usually so much greener than they were now, reflecting the yellow lights around them, making them shimmer golden-studying the irises for deceit or some sign she was being disingenuous; as though the truth would be spelled out in their speckles like braille. And the next their lips were together, breaking for quick, harsh breaths only to reconnect again moments later. It was not gentle, not hesitant. Their bodies pressed up against one another, longing for more contact, whimpers and moans breaking into the dark night. Cosima certainly felt something now; felt it when Delphine's hands gripped at her waist, when she bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it just slightly.

"Cosima." It sounded like a plea, high pitched with just the slightest bit of breath and whine. Her word broke Cosima from her ambition, and she stumbled a few steps backward.

"Shit." She raised a hand to her forehead. "Shit, Delphine. I'm so sorry. Maybe—" She swallowed, shaking her head, tears rising to her eyes again. "Maybe you should go."

"It's okay, Cosima. Really. I want to be here for you."

Suddenly she had more feelings than she could handle.

"Please, Delphine." She shook her head, then headed for the stairwell pausing at the door of the small shed-like structure. "Please just go." And she disappeared behind the heavy metal door.

"Merde."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used here is "Halo" by Beyonce, specifically the Ane Brune version. Go check it out. Now. I can wait.


	5. Formidable

Neither Cosima nor Delphine were the type to shy away from confrontation. Both were, in fact, quite good at it. Cosima, fueled by righteous indignation, would take the upper hand through her intelligence, whipping at the person with carefully calculated remarks until they were flayed, bleeding and raw before her. She confronted only when she was right, and would not—could not—be swayed. She was not averse to apologizing, either, when she was wrong. Her confrontation evoked shame, guilt. She wanted her enemies groveling at her feet.

Delphine, on the other hand, simmered. She would invite the person to her with an ambiguous "we need to talk." They would follow, already set on edge, and she would light up a cigarette or take up a glass of wine and ask how they were doing, let them baste in their discomfort. And then it would happen. So nonchalant it would almost seem matter-of-fact, with the grace and poise of royalty. Her words would sting, not with the crazed hacking of an axe murderer, but with the cool confidence of a true sociopath she would torture them with needle pricks that hit bone.

Yes, both of them were exceedingly good at confrontation. Yet every time they'd seen each other in the past few weeks, both had shied away. They stole glances, but averted their gaze when the other returned it. The truth was, neither was sure whether they were in the right or not. Neither was sure how to move forward. They were in stalemate, locked in a battle of stubbornness and insecurity.

Cosima had shared a studio space with Paul for the past two years. It was one provided by the college, for graduate students to have a central, neat space to create and store their works and supplies. It had gone smoothly, given their opposite schedules. Paul worked mostly in the days and Cosima at night, often laboring until the sunrise. They both should have known that it couldn't last forever but it was still a surprise when she opened the door to see him, stroking carefully—almost robotically—against the canvas, Delphine working diligently on her laptop a few feet away.

"Oh. Hi."

"Hey."

"Bonjour."

"I'm just gonna—I have some work to do, so I'm gonna go do it." Cosima stated, feeling as though she'd just walked into their house without knocking.

It was weird to have them there. Cosima was used to being able to blast her music and light up a joint, taking as much space as she wanted. Paul and Delphine's typing and scratching brush strokes were a melody of its own punctuated by speaking and the occasional touches that reminded them they were not robots—they were animals, living in bodies that loved and needed and craved. She found herself feeling uncomfortable in her skin and unsure of her artwork. She pulled a tin from her bag and moved to the windowsill of the large, industrial window and began rolling herself a joint. She heard Paul swear under his breath and speak in a low voice to Delphine. She chose not to listen, not to care, and stretched herself out on the sill, her legs not even filling the entirety of it. She lit the joint, inhaled, heard the murmurs stop. Then it was a few footsteps and the door opened, clicked shut with a whine.

So it surprised her when Delphine spoke, suddenly next to her.

"May I sit with you?"

She opened her eyes, trying to read her intentions as though she'd ever been able to do so before.

"You can do whatever you want, Delphine." Her words tasted acrid and vapid on her tongue, like cigarette smoke.

Delphine perched on the edge of the sill by Cosima's feet, gripping it and tapping her fingers against where it became part of the wall. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Cosima sighed, head turned to look out on the street below. "Because I made a huge mistake." Cosima flicked the growing slug of ash off the end of her joint to the floor. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

"Don't be, Cosima." Delphine raked a handful of curls to the back of her head, letting her hand rest on her skull. "I kissed you back."

Cosima stayed silent, but squashed the burning ember against the window pane.

"You were hurting and I wanted to help you." Delphine's hand was tentative as it brushed against Cosima's shin, then landed on her knee. "I wanted you to feel whole again."

"So, you kissed me because you felt bad for me?" Cosima's voice sounded threadbare, worn through.

"No. That's not what I meant." She sighed, looking at where her hand had landed, traced the weft of the fabric there. "I know how you feel about me. You are not the first one to look at me that way." She glanced up to find her friend watching her intently, jaw shut tightly but not clenching, eyes turned to her but not tearing or bleary. "And I wanted to give you anything I could."

"Would you have fucked me if I hadn't stopped?" Her voice was wound tighter now, and her facade started to crack. Delphine could hear the anger building in her vocal chords, crouching to pounce and aiming to kill.

"No. I'm not gay."

Cosima's nostrils flared and she looked down at Delphine's hand, still resting on her knee. "Right. Well." She pushed the hand away. "I have work to do, Delphine."

"You're mad at me." Delphine bit her lip and looked out the window. "What, do you want me to apologize?" She stood, using their position and her height to loom. "I will not apologize for not being available to fuck, as you so charmingly called it, whenever you don't feel well. I can't believe—" She began to stutter, surrender to her passion when the words came less easily in English. "I can't _believe_ you. I can't believe I trusted you." She shook her head. "I should have listened."

"Listened to what?" Cosima was barely opening her mouth now, her jaw was so tight.

"To everybody who told me to stay away from you. You have quite the reputation, you know."

"Oh, my god." Cosima laughed, rising as well to meet Delphine's challenge. "Are you calling me a slut?"

"What? I—no. Don't twist my words, Cosima." Delphine leaned back just slightly.

"Then what are you trying to say?" Cosima took full advantage of Delphine's retreat, pushing her chest up and forward, taking up the space Delphine had vacated.

"I'm trying to say you're an-" Her fists balled at her sides. "An entitled little shit."

"That's rich coming from _Mademoiselle Cormier_." Cosima's eyes flashed lightning, and she turned back to the window. "Just leave me alone."

"Damn it, Cosima!" Delphine caught her by the arm, turning her roughly. "No. You don't get the last word in this. You don't get to be the hurt one. What do you want from me? I thought we were friends. You never said you wanted more. I supported you, I shared myself with you—things I would normally not tell anyone—because you asked me to. And then you kiss me and I'm supposed to-to-to what? Suddenly realize I'm in love with you, suddenly realize I am not straight, suddenly leave Paul to be with you?"

Cosima's jaw dropped open, then quickly closed again. She turned her head, looking at a paintbrush that had been forgotten on the floor—anything but Delphine's eyes right now. They'd be her undoing, because Delphine was right. Absolutely right. The words were dammed at her throat, despite the barrier being pounded on from all directions. It held. She said nothing. Delphine snorted, shook her head. Looked to the side and up to the ceiling, nostrils flaring. It burned, keeping in the tears, but no more than Cosima's silence.

"Okay, then. I will leave you alone." She walked to the door, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob, hoping Cosima would stop her.

She didn't.


	6. I can hardly make you mine

"Where's the one of you?" It hadn't been the first thing Cosima had wanted to say to Delphine in three weeks, slipping up quietly next to her in front of Paul's paintings. In fact, it hadn't been something she'd wanted to say to Delphine at all, and she cringed as soon as it slipped out.

They were at a pre-showing of their final artwork, designed for wealthy alumni and other donors to get drunk, meet artists, collect up-and-coming works and, of course, write fat checks for the school. It was an honor to be chosen, only a handful of students were, but still the event was boring as all hell and was mostly deans parading her around like a show pony, offering her up to old men to leer at and try to take home in exchange for patronage.

"I asked him not to hang it." She sipped from her glass of red wine, ignoring the blatant arrogance and bitterness in Cosima's words. "Not that it's any of your business."

Cosima sighed, bringing her free hand up to massage her forehead. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Delphine glanced over at her, studying her wearied expression carefully. "Why does my relationship with Paul upset you so, Cosima?"

The words were calculating; intentional. They both knew damn well why. A dullness settled in Cosima's chest, and she attempted to swallow it down, as though the spasm of her esophagus would somehow jostle it out of place or soothe it to slumber. "I just think you could do better."

"Bullshit."

The way her accent warped the words almost made Cosima laugh, but she suppressed it. "No, I'm serious. I saw him working on the painting of you. I would've approached it way differently."

Delphine sipped her wine again, wondering if taking the bait was wise. Finally, she settled on a disinterested "Would you have?" Though it sounded much less like a question than a rhetorical statement.

Truthfully, though, she wondered what Cosima thought of it.

"Yep. Like I said, Paul paints emotion terribly. I think it's something in the lips and eyes—a subtlety he's never quite grasped." She took another sip of wine, smirking into the rim when she finished. "Then again, it's not surprising. The guy has a face like a piece of wood. His face is, like, always the same." She emphasized the last three words with harsh strokes of her free hand.

Delphine sighed. "He is a good man, Cosima."

"Mmm," she hummed out her assent. "I'm sure."

"And a fantastic artist." Delphine pressed, suddenly feeling very frustrated by Cosima's coolness, and wishing her passion would come back. Cosima's brash impulsivity was her downfall, and Delphine desperately wanted the upper hand again.

"Sure thing." Cosima responded, sarcasm sugarcoated in cheeriness.

"Okay, fine." Delphine snapped, wishing to rile Cosima up. "What would you have done different, in all your artistic glory?"

Cosima lowered the glass from her lips finally, and turned her head to look at Delphine for the first time since she'd gotten there. She looked stunning in a simple black dress that stopped mid-thigh and hugged her tightly. Cosima let herself look up and down Delphine's body shamelessly, her mind flashing to the painting to fill in the little details of what she had not been able to imagine.

_Shit, Cosima. Don't do that. That is so creepy._

She felt her body temperature rise a degree, and lifted her eyes back up to Delphine's face. "I'd paint you right after an orgasm."

Delphine's head snapped to face forward, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Ms Niehaus, I-" Her outrage was cut off by Cosima reaching up and tilting her head to look at her under the guise of exploring her face. For artistic purposes, of course. Artists and scientists needed to be thorough, after all, and Cosima was both.

"But I'd make sure you really wanted it first. It would be slow, I'd make you beg." Her voice was low, eye contact breaking only when Delphine would make quick sweeps around them, keeping an eye out for Paul or any of his friends. "I bet you would be so beautiful then, with your hair messed up, your skin flushed," Cosima's body was coming alive, and she was having trouble stopping the words from coming out of her mouth, "reaching for me. And your eyes—I bet they'd be the most beautiful combination of exhaustion and satisfaction, and still, I bet you'd want. I get the feeling you want endlessly." She let her hand, which hadn't moved from Delphine's jawline, begin tentative strokes along her cheek. Delphine's head turned toward her hand just slightly.

"Cosima." Delphine wondered when the name had begun feeling so natural in her mouth, when her touch had become so comforting. She wondered when she'd begun missing it, and how she hadn't realized. "Don't." She grasped Cosima's wrist and pulled it away from her face. "Paul is a good artist. It was a good painting." She released her grasp and crossed her arms over her chest, gripping onto herself tightly.

"I didn't say it was bad," Cosima clarified, sighing. "I said I could do better. Not that I would, what a cliché."

"You are a very good artist." It wasn't an agreement, but it wasn't an argument, either. "And I miss your friendship. But I will not dump Paul because you do not like his work or because you are jealous."

"Right. Okay." Cosima turned and walked away.

Delphine watched her walk out of the gallery, stopping only briefly to tap Scott on the shoulder and say something.

An hour later, Cosima was still gone. People had been asking for her for quite some time, wishing to speak to the artist of the most unique paintings in the gallery—Not the best, necessarily, Delphine backtracked in her head, rubbing her upper arm tentatively. Simply the most unique. She tapped Scott on the shoulder.

"Bonjour, Scott." She smiled her best smile at him, and he beamed awkwardly back.

"Delphine, hey." It was the first time they'd spoken since Leekie was in town, and he'd fallen awkwardly all over himself that day, as well. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if Cosima told you where she was going." She asked, letting concern curve itself into her brow. "Many people wish to speak with her."

"Oh. She said she wanted to be alone and think. I, uh, I texted her a bit ago, but... She hasn't gotten back to me yet." He pushed his glasses up his nose. His eyes glancing from his feet to Delphine's face then back again.

"Well, could you tell me where she went?" She pushed, gently.

"Um," he sighed. "I'm only telling you this because I want her to be successful, you know? So, like, please don't tell her I told you." He glanced up, pleading. "Please, she'll kill me."

"Je promets." She brought a hand up to his shoulder to seal the deal.

"Whenever she wants to be alone, she usually goes up to her studio space. It's always empty during these things and, well, painting's how she expresses herself, so-"

Delphine didn't wait for him to finish. "Merci, Scott."

Up the stairs to the third floor, fifth door on the left. Something about the studio part of this building reminded her of an insane asylum, all concrete and endless rows of windowless doors and flourescent lighting. She supposed it wasn't that far off from the truth. She pushed the door open. It was unlocked, thankfully. Cosima sat on a small bench in the center of the room used for models, her back to the door, a bottle of wine from the gallery posed at her feet like a faithful watchdog. The strong smell of weed hit Delphine the second she opened the door and indeed, a joint smoldered in Cosima's hand, sharing it with a paintbrush.

"Stuck on something?" Delphine shut the door behind her, locking it silently.

Cosima didn't answer, just brought the joint back to her lips, eyes never leaving the canvas in front of her.

"Everyone is looking for you." Delphine stood behind her now.

"Let them." Cosima's voice was harsh and deep—maybe from the smoking—and still her gaze did not shift.

"Cosima." Delphine moved to sit next to her on the small bench, hips pressed flush up against one another, her left hand settling on Cosima's shoulder so that her arm draped loosely across her back. "I'm sorry if I upset you, but you have such a promising career. Please do not throw away this opportunity." She squeezed Cosima's shoulder, settling it into a rhythm to work on the knot she found there. "I would not be able to live with myself if you did."

Cosima looked up, studying Delphine's face carefully. "I'm not making it up, am I?" Her voice cracked suddenly, all of her bravado gone. "I mean come on, we just shook hands but it—I mean, the way you were looking at me—then at the river, and in your room—I could have sworn, Delphine." She let the thoughts hang in the air, disjointed and heavy.

Delphine swallowed. "No, you did not make it up. We have a... certain... connection." She picked her words carefully."But like I said, I—I'm not gay, Cosima." The way those eyes looked at her, so full of sadness and longing, made her heart ache. "I mean, I know sexuality is a spectrum, and that much of what we see as these rigid categories are really just social mores, but I am with Paul and I am happy."

"Okay." Cosima nodded, turning her attention back to her painting. "Okay, fine." A hand rubbed absentmindedly at her lips as she studied it, and Delphine watched her for a minute before looking at the painting herself.

"Oh, wow. Cosima." She stood, taking a step forward to be closer to it. "This is gorgeous." She raised a hand to touch the canvas before catching herself, and clamping it to her side, blushing furiously. Her father's voice popped into her head suddenly. _Rule number one of the art world, Delphine. Never touch the works._ "I—I'm sorry."

Cosima finally seemed to notice her, to pull out of her own head and back into the world. "Oh. No, it's okay." She stood, coming to stand just behind her and slightly to her left. "Go ahead."

"What?" Delphine's brow furrowed. "No, it would compromise the-"

Cosima laughed, the life in the room beginning to lift with her mood, yet still singed around the edges. "Delphine. Seriously. I don't mind, this isn't the Louvre." When Delphine still didn't move, Cosima grasped her hand impetuously, guiding it to the canvas, beginning on the smooth, grainy texture of paint on canvas and moving it inward until it hit the white oblong object in the center, which was most certainly _not_ canvas. "I don't want my work to be the same forever. I want it to adapt, to be changed by its environment. Just like we are, like everything is."

Delphine's mouth still hung open, the gasp from the change in texture lingering on her lips. "What is this?"

"It's a cuttlebone." Cosima responded, "you can totally buy them for birds to sharpen their beaks or something. Just, like, at any pet store." Her brow furrowed. "It's actually sort of barbaric, when you think about it."

"A... Cuddle bone?" Delphine's brow furrowed, and she turned her head finally to look at Cosima's face, twisted in awe at her own creation. "What is that?"

"It's the only bone in the cuttlefish." She responded, wincing slightly. "Well, actually, it's not really a bone, but whatevs. Close enough. And cuttlefish, they're cephalopods. Really cool, actually. We think they communicate via changing colors in their skin. Oh!" She added, smiling, pulling closer to Delphine, and moving her hand to trace a shape nearby. "And that's what their pupils look like."

"Wow." She chuckled, "You are so definitely different from everyone I have ever met, Cosima." Her eyes were back, focused on Cosima's face. "It is so refreshing. I feel as though you-" she hesitated. This was most definitely not a good idea. Cosima's body pressed against her back, one hand holding Delphine's on the canvas, the other placed nonchalantly on her hip was not a good idea. Delphine's deep appreciation of Cosima's ingenuity, and her expression of it was not a good idea. Her breathless admiration was not a good idea. _None_ of this would end well. And yet, when Cosima focused her gaze from the Canvas to Delphine's eyes, she felt the words spill out anyway... "I feel as though you understand things, as though you understand me." Delphine's eyebrows twisted and raised simultaneously. "It feels good."

Cosima's hand, the one on Delphine's hip, twitched, and her eyes searched Delphine's for hesitance. Her tongue flickered out, moistened her lips. _No. I can't._ And Delphine pulled away, turning, taking a step.

"I've missed you, Cosima." Her voice was hoarse, gravelly.

"Yeah. I missed you, too." Cosima sighed the words as she let her hands fall to her sides.

"Could we be friends again? I do not like fighting with you."

Cosima shook her head and crossed her arms, her shoulders shrugging up to her ears. "As nice as it would be to say yes, and go back to being your friend, as easy as it would be to just fall back into the waiting and hoping and wishing, I know I would only be hurting myself. I _want_ to be just your friend, Delphine, but I can't. I just—I just can't." Her shoulders dropped down. "I'm sorry. Maybe sometime down the line, but now it just hurts."

Delphine nodded slowly, crossing her arms as well and forcing a smile. "Okay. I'm going to go, and you should, as well."

"Yeah." Cosima glanced down at her shoes. "You're probably right. Those alumni aren't gonna charm themselves."

Delphine chuckled, and began walking toward the door. She paused a step behind Cosima and turned. "Cosima, could I—would it be weird for me to ask if—if I could hug you?"

Cosima's breath huffed out through her nose, and she shrugged. "I guess that would be okay."

She stretched up on her tiptoes, letting Delphine support and balance her around her waist, and wrapped her arms around Delphine's neck.

"I'm going to miss you." Delphine breathed it to her neck like a secret.

"I'll miss you, too."


	7. Lavender Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this fic is about to earn its rating for more reasons than just the fact that everyone in my head swears as much as I do in real life.

It was agony; pure, utter, complete fucking hell fucking bullshit. Cosima pulled the cigarette out of her pocket and lit it, inhaling and feeling the sweet rush it brought to her. It wasn't the nicotine she'd been craving, it was something far deeper and more dangerous. Still, she'd forgotten from her brief foray into tobacco as a teenager the way that it gave a tiny high, even on its own. Inhaling deeply again, she felt the dizziness seep into her head, making her the smallest bit nauseated. She could see why other people liked it. It was like a joint that only lasted a few minutes, and it was enough to slow the thrum of her aching heart just a little, to help her forget that she and Delphine were not friends, were not lovers, were not anything.

The party inside was going well—she'd even been having fun until she spotted Delphine and Paul on the dance floor—and muffled hip-hop remixed to be more danceable and electronic pounded against the wall she was leaning against. She was here with Billie, who was a comfortable distraction from everything that had happened. It was the perfect situation, really. Billie, who wanted to be friends, whp wanted to fuck. She did not want a commitment of any sort, didn't want love. Cosima wanted none of those things, either. This was what her life should be like, Cosima thought, the life of an artist. She lived in a world where words were thrown around like pansexual and queer, words that described liminality, words that described that which would not be pinned down. The people around her called their sexuality and gender postmodern, they dressed in whatever way they saw fit, whatever way would draw a reaction. They railed against capitalism and monogamy, and it was all so that they could fuck freely. It was all so that they could fuck who they wanted, when they wanted, how they wanted. So they could fuck people of different races, sexualities, sizes, genders, social groups. It was their liberty in this oppressive world.

So, Billie was perfect for her. Why didn't it feel that way?

"We must stop meeting like this." Delphine stepped out of the door, bringing with her the blaring music, before it was hidden behind the door again. She leaned against the wall above Cosima, lighting a cigarette and offering a sly smile. She was drunk already, Cosima could tell by the way she wobbled lightly when normally she would be graceful, by the way she was cool and confident when normally she would be awkward and reticent. Could tell by her big smiles and the pink flush on her cheeks.

Cosima forced the corners of her lips upwards. "Yeah, I agree. Let me guess: Donnie invited you?"

Delphine tucked a strand of hair that was waving dangerously close to her lit cigarette behind her ear. "Yes, among others. Believe it or not, Cosima, I have many friends."

"I believe it." Cosima took another drag off her cigarette, inhaling just a little afterward, then blowing it out in a gray jet. "You're friends with all the straight people."

Delphine laughed. "You have no straight friends? What about Sarah?"

"Sarah doesn't count, she's not like the rest of them. Way cooler, less boring." She went to take another puff, only to stop mid-inhale. "Whoa. I totally didn't mean that."

Delphine's eyebrow was still quirked when she started laughing. "It's okay, Cosima. I understand. You think they are too normal."

"Yeah. I guess." Cosima mumbled, running a thumb across the sidewalk, letting it scrape and tug against her skin.

"Is Alison not too normal?"

"Alison's all right. She's more Felix's friend than anything. Whenever I'm around she plays with that little cross necklace of hers." She looked up from her spot on the sidewalk, watched the thoughts cross Delphine's face. "I think she's kind of uncomfortable with me, to be honest."

Delphine nodded slowly, taking a drag of her cigarette from the corner of her mouth before responding, letting the words out in little puffs of smoke. "I'm sorry, Cosima."

"It's okay." Cosima's words were slurring just a little.

"I did not know you smoked." Delphine nudged her with her foot. "Cigarettes, at least."

"I don't. Not usually." Cosima replied, averting her eyes down to the yellow nub in her hand.

"I can tell." Delphine laughed, and Cosima remembered how much she liked her laugh when she was drunk. It was entirely unbridled, just a little too loud. It brought out the dimples in her cheeks.

"What? How?" Cosima nudged back at the leg that had kicked her, finding herself smiling despite herself.

"You suck them in like you'll never smoke again." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Like a dope smoker."

"A dope smoker? Is it 1975 and no one told me?"

"Brat."

"Well, how am I supposed to smoke it, then, miss continental?" Cosima teased, smile not fading even a little.

Delphine settled onto the ground next to her, shifting awkwardly so that her skirt wouldn't ride up. "Comme ca." She took another drag, gentler than Cosima had, inhaling just the smallest bit after before realeasing it back into the air. Cosima mimicked her, raising an eyebrow as the smoke dissipated. "Better. You're a very quick learner."

"So I've been told." Cosima quipped back, refocusing her gaze to the abandoned storefront across the street.

"So, why are you now?" Delphine's cigarette was fading fast, now, just an inch from the blue lines that marked the end of her tobacco and the beginning of the filter. "Smoking?"

Cosima smiled at her own cigarette, as though it would protect its feelings. "Don't make me answer that. It's totally awkward and embarrassing." She smashed it into the pavement.

"Is it about me?"

"Yeah."

"D'accord. So, what about you? Why are you here tonight?" She flicked at the filter, sending ash fluttering to the ground next to Cosima.

"I'm part of the group that puts this on. The Rimbaud collective." She grinned, shrugging a shoulder to her ear.

"I did not know that." Cosima managed to surprise her every day. How did she have so much time for so many things?

"Most people don't. We like it that way." She responded, her smile taking on the slightly mysterious quality that made Delphine want to know everything.

"So... Clone Club, eh?" She asked about the name of the party, turning to lean her shoulder against the wall.

"Yeah. Sarah and I," she swallowed, shifting a little straighter against the wall, "we did a performance art piece a while back at one of these, and I guess it stuck. Tonight's a fundraiser so she can turn it into a web series soon, actually. We're doing a repeat performance a little later. It's pretty cool."

"Wow."

"Yeah." Cosima played with the hem of her dress for a second before adding, "enjoying it?"

"Yes. Very much. The loud music is a bit too much for me at the moment, though."

"Oh. Well, I know a quiet place. It's kind of like the chill zone, you know?" Her arms stretched out to their full span. "Mostly it's friends of the collective who just wanna smoke some weed and relax, maybe catch a few dances when they get high enough." Her eyes flickered to Delphine's. "I could bring you there if you wanted?"

"I would like that."

The "chill zone" was larger than Delphine had expected; a large, sprawling area with a kitchen, couch, chair and coffee table and a hallway disappearing off to the right. Paintings littered the room, reclining against the graffitied walls; one of Cosima, leaned over in a lab coat, another of Sarah, with her eyes crossed out.

"This place is... interesting."

"Yeah. Most of this is Felix's art." Cosima explained, tossing her cardigan off to the side. She headed to the couch, collapsing onto it. Delphine took up the armchair.

"Hey baby." The woman on the couch grinned, wrapping an arm loosely around Cosima's shoulder. "Gross." She sniffed at Cosima's neck. "Have you been smoking?"

"Yeah. Just one. And I ran into Delphine." She motioned toward her with a flick of her wrist. "Thought I'd show her where the real party is."

"Uh-oh." Sarah piped up from the kitchen. "I thought you were done with the frog, Cosima."

"Hey!" Cosima spoke up in Delphine's defense before she could do so herself. "Be nice, Sarah. Besides, we were just friends. No biggie."

"Oh, my God." Billie laughed, pulling Cosima tighter to her by the shoulders. "This is the straight girl you were crushing out on?" She glanced Delphine over. "She's cute." She raised her voice to address Delphine. "But don't get the wrong idea. This one's mine." She placed a kiss to Cosima's shoulder.

Cosima laughed, pulling away a little. "I'm yours?"

"At least for tonight." It was barely a whisper, but everyone heard. Sarah rolled her eyes and went back to mixing the round of drinks in front of her. Billie pushed Cosima down onto her back on the couch, both of them laughing. She kissed her neck, pressing a leg between her thighs. "And don't forget it."

Cosima let out a moan, her hips rising involuntarily against Billie's thigh. "Okay. We get it." She pushed on Billie's shoulders lightly, struggling to get upright only to be pushed back down.

"Do you? Or do you need to be reminded how good I can make you feel?" Her thigh thrust again and a hand came up to brush against Cosima's nipple through her dress.

"Fuck. Billie, come on. Get off."

"Do you really want me to?" Her lips were at Cosima's ear now, brushing against the shell of it, letting her breath tickle the sensitive skin.

Cosima groaned, cursing her penchant to make noise when she was turned on. And when did Billie figure out all the right buttons to push anyway? "Yes, Billie. I have to pee. Come on." She pushed again, and this time she relented, sitting up to give her space to move.

"Want me to come with you?" She quirked an eyebrow, her smirk never fading.

"I'm a big kid, I think I can handle the bathroom by myself. But," she leaned in for a quick kiss, lingering a few inches away, "we can definitely finish this later."

Something about the old, yellowing light in the bathroom always hurt her eyes, but she ignored the dull ache, splashing cold water onto her face. She had to admit, there was something thrilling about locking eyes with Delphine while Billie practically fucked her on the couch. But also, her stomach churned wondering what she had been thinking. Was she disgusted? Amused? Her face had been unreadable, as always. She wiped the water from her face, drying her hands on the towel next to her. She looked into her own face, wobbly and unsure from the alcohol and the buzz in her brain from being teased. She knew she should go back out sooner than later, there's only so much time a person can take in the bathroom, but she worried what would happen. She worried Delphine would still be there, and worried just as much that she wouldn't. She opened the door, only to jump when she found a person leaning against the frame.

"Delphine, what are you-"

"I need to talk to you." Delphine stepped through the door, pushing it closed and locking it behind her before charging the rest of the way to stand in the middle of the bathroom.

"Okay. What about?" She turned around, leaning against the door.

"You—you practically let that girl..." she paused, suddenly shy, then spat out "fuck you out there." Her hand flew from her forehead into the air between them, settling on her hip. "What is wrong with you? I mean-"

"No." Cosima cut her off, shaking her head and pushing off the door. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to tell me who to kiss or fuck or whatever with, or where."

"You are so much better than that, Cosima." Delphine snapped back, stepping forward to meet her, not backing down.

"Fuck you, Delphine. Why do you even care? You're not even a part of my life. Billie is. She's there for me, she wants me. She's not like you. So, why? Why does it matter?" Cosima had raised her voice, waving her hand angrily in front of her.

"Because I'm jealous!" Delphine yelled back, immediately glancing to the ceiling to fight back tears. "Because she gets to be in your life. She gets to make you smile, to be the only one you have eyes for, Cosima." She turned as though she was going to start pacing then stopped, turning back to face her. "And I just kept thinking, 'that should be me. Why isn't that me that gets those smiles?' I—I want to be the person that makes you smile."

"You—You're drunk, Delphine. And you can't do this when you don't mean it, it's not fair." Her eyes shone with tears which began to condense in the wells of her eyelids. "You can't just show up when you want attention and expect me to drop everything for you."

"I mean it, Cosima."

"Like hell you-" Delphine rushed forward, pressing Cosima back against the door, pressing their lips together harshly. Cosima whimpered, pushing her hips forward, letting her body take the wheel. Delphine lapped at her lip with her tongue, wanting to taste her, but Cosima turned her head away, panting in rough, haggard breaths.

There was a pause as they both caught their breath. "Why were you smoking? It was because of me, wasn't it?" Delphine bent her head to brush her lips against Cosima's neck.

"Because they taste like you." Delphine moaned into Cosima's neck, letting her teeth scrape against the skin there.

"Merde."

"I don't understand, Delphine. I don't get what you want."

Delphine paused, letting her lips linger against the heavy throb of her heartbeat, panting against her skin. "I don't know." She pressed her eyes shut so tightly it made her head hurt. "I—I think about kissing you, so much, and I can do that. I can imagine touching your hips." She dropped her hands from the door to Cosima's hips, letting them touch lightly. "I can even imagine touching your waist, though I wonder how different it would be. I wonder what it would be like to have your skin be so soft, I—I am not used to such soft skin." She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "But when I think of touching your—your chest. I..." She trailed off, pulling back. "I cannot imagine it, Cosima. It—it is not—it is not what I am used to doing or wanting. I do not know if I want it or not."

Cosima swallowed, head still turned away from Delphine. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.

The door reverberated with a knock behind her, followed by Sarah's sharp voice. "Cosima, come on! Forty minutes to showtime, and we still need to set up."

"I'll be right there, Sarah!" She called back, tenting her fingers against her forehead. "I just need to... take care of myself, okay?"

Sarah's laughter shook the door. "Your fuck buddy got to ya, eh? Okay, Cos. Just hurry up, yeah?" Her footsteps retreated from the door.

Delphine took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, and Cosima licked her lips, shut her eyes.

"Look, Delphine, just go. Okay? I need to... deal with this before I can go on stage and Sarah's counting on me."

"Let me stay."

Cosima's eyes snapped open, studying Delphine from the corners of her thickly-lined almond eyes. "What?"

"I want to watch you." Delphine's breathing had picked up. "Unless you are not comfortable with..." She trailed off, catching herself in the middle of her request. She knew it was absurd, looking at herself from the outside in, but her curiosity drove her forward. The alcohol muddling her filters certainly didn't help either.

Cosima leaned her weight back against the door, closing her eyes. She knew she should say no, but there was an odd combination of terror and exhilaration pulsing with her heartbeat and pushing her onward. Delphine was watching her, _wanted_ to watch her. Her hand rose haltingly to her own breast, rubbing it with her palm before intentionally scraping across her nipple through the fabric with her thumb. She let out a small hiss, her hips pressing forward, searching for something to grind against. Her lips opened and closed in phantom kisses as she continued to tease herself with one hand and slowly hike up her dress with the other.

Delphine found herself moving. One second she was standing in the middle of the room, and the next, she was pressed against Cosima, forcing both of her hands harsher against her body.

"Delphine." Cosima whimpered out her name, the sound rippling through her skin in achingly pleasurable shocks. She pressed her hips forward, wanting to hear her name on Cosima's lips again, delighted at the shuddering groan she received in its place. She could feel Cosima's hand moving between them, all short, slippery strokes against her clit.

Cosima's eyes were open now, holding her own with an intense fervor. Her lips surged forward, reaching for Delphine's but she pulled back, not wanting to miss a beat of Cosima's pleasure. Her dreadlocks thudded against the door when her head fell back, tipping up to relieve the uncomfortable knot of pressure her hair forced against the back of her head. Delphine traced the straining muscles of her neck with light fingertips, smirked when Cosima swallowed or moaned, and she could feel them contract, could feel them vibrate.

"Fuck, Delphine. I'm gonna come." Cosima had begun to tremble, to grasp onto Delphine's shoulder to hold herself upright. A shudder ran through the body pressed against her, and Cosima pulled her close, bit roughly into her shoulder, keeping herself silent, not even noticing the chemical taste of the fabric in her mouth. And then she was pushing Delphine away, walking on shaky legs to the sink to wash her hands.

They were both silent, both not entirely sure what they'd done. "I've gotta go get ready." Cosima was turned to her now, leaning back against the pedestal sink, fingers drumming lightly against the rim. Delphine nodded, moving off to the side so Cosima could pass. "I'll see you around."


	8. Dancing on my Own

People were cheering. No, it was more than cheering; they were screaming _, roaring._ It was a high unlike any other Cosima had ever experienced. She wasn't a performer, not really, she much preferred the background work to the spotlight, but she had to admit that, at this moment, she felt utterly appreciated in a way she didn't normally. She was being enveloped in hugs almost every way she turned, kissed on the cheek, big smiles all around. She felt like a rockstar. She searched the crowd, even as she stepped down from the platform and the DJ started spinning again, stuttering back into a thundering beat. She looked, but she did not find what she'd hoped to. Delphine was gone. _Maybe she just stepped outside for a second. Or maybe I'm just missing her._ She reached into her bag and turned her phone back on, holding it while she chatted with Sarah, getting notes and giving feedback of her own until it buzzed in her hand.

The words "Delphine Cormier" sat bold at the top of the screen.

_Cosima, you will never believe this. I just saw a deer in the middle of the street!_

Cosima smiled, confused yet amazed at this odd text from this odd woman.

_Whoa. Did you meet her? Deer are good omens._

"Cosima!" Billie bounded over, catching Cosima in a hug practically mid-air. "You did so great! That was totally awesome."

"Thanks, Billie." She pressed the power button on her phone with her thumb, the screen lighting up and showing no new messages. She sighed, and pulled out of her friend's embrace.

"Everyone's gonna go upstairs for a celebratory drink. You in?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

It was fun; Sarah gave a toast to the cast and crew, everybody drank more, some folks left to go dance for a while. It'd been half an hour since the last text and she'd almost forgotten about her phone when it buzzed between her breasts. "Shit. Hang on." She pulled the phone out from her cleavage, making the friend across from her laugh.

"I didn't even know you had that in there!" He said, mid-laugh. "I'm so jealous I can't do that."

"Stuff a bra and you can." Cosima responded distractedly, swiping at the screen to bring up the message.

_I can't stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me._

She didn't even have to think about her reply.

_Come over._

She smiled up at her friend, who was sitting back against the arm of the couch, eyebrow quirked in quiet, annoyed amusement. "Sorry. Friend's having a rough night."

"Mmm-hmm." He took a sip of his drink and glanced off to the side.

_What about your girlfriend?_

She looked at the screen, wondered what Delphine was doing, where she was, if she'd actually accept her invitation.

_She's not my girlfriend, and she's not with me right now. I'm still at the party. Say the word and I'll be in a taxi._

She stared at the screen a little longer, half expecting it to light up again instantly. When a minute passed, she gave up. She kept the phone in her hand still, but went back to her conversation. After ten minutes, she put the phone back into her bra. After twenty, she had another drink. After thirty, she took a shot with Felix. After forty, another. After an hour, she excused herself to go to the bathroom, stumbling slightly into the familiar, painful yellow that bounced off the tiles, grown gray and grimy with time and disrepair. She didn't bother to close the door behind her, and leaned against the sink, gripping the edge tightly. She pulled her phone out, staring at the background, a picture of her and Sarah and Felix grinning into the phone, held at arms' length. She shook her head, and locked it, leaning her hand back against the sink.

"I am so stupid." She muttered to herself, banging her phone lightly against the sink with each word. Delphine was probably home with Paul, probably not thinking about her, probably content playing with her heart and keeping her hopes up just high enough. She wondered if Paul was a good fuck, if Delphine kissed him with the same need and urgency she kissed her. "Fuck!" She snapped, turning and hurling the device at the wall, watching it come apart into three separate pieces and clatter to the floor. She brought her hands up to her forehead, suddenly feeling altogether too hot, too constrained.

"Well, all right, then." Felix was standing in the doorway, the smirk in his voice accompanied by soft, sympathetic eyes. "Looks like someone's having a hard night, yeah?"

Cosima just nodded, trying to rub the ache from her temples.

"You know what? I think it might be time for us to paint together again."

Cosima glanced up at the unbridled excitement in his face, his utter eagerness to please, and let out a little snort. "Felix, I don't know if that's a good idea. I mean, it's already, like, one thirty in the morning."

"Yeah. So? Do you have plans tomorrow?"

"I, uh-" She sighed, defeated. "No."

"Great. Your place it is, then."

She wanted to stay. She wanted to watch Cosima's performance, watch her hands move and think about the ways they'd moved earlier in the night. She hadn't gotten quite enough of her yet. But Paul was shifting awkwardly next to her, sighing and throwing his weight from foot to foot. He tugged on her hand again.

"C'mon. It's gonna be a web series soon, you're not missing anything." She waved her free hand dismissively, but he caught it and turned her toward him. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." He leaned in and kissed her, palming her ass and pulling her hips into his. She forced herself not to groan; not here, not in this crowd watching the stage with silent attention. The truth was, as interested as she was in what was happening on the stage, her body was shimmering with sexual energy that needed to be sated. She let him pull her out of the warehouse and onto the street, down a few blocks where it'd be easier to catch a taxi than in this abandoned neighborhood.

"Paul. Paul, attendez." She stopped, tugging on him to force him to stop and turn.

"What?" He turned, following her gaze.

"Shh. You'll scare it." Delphine took a step forward, then paused. There was a deer. Right in front of her, bathed in the dirty streetlight.

"It's just a deer. There's thousands of them in North America." When she didn't even turn to look at him, he kept going. "There's so many, the government practically pays people to hunt them." He pressed into her side so his words brushed directly up against her ear. "Come on, I want to get you in my bed." She finally glanced over at him, let him kiss her, then smiled.

"Yes, you're right. Allons-y."

The sounds of the city became slowly more prominent, night clubs and honking horns and conversations held over cigarettes. Finally, they stepped out onto a busy street, one bustling with people and cars. "I'll hail a cab." Paul stepped to the curb, craning his neck, searching for the bright yellow cars.

She pulled out her phone, opening her conversation with Cosima. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second. She'd just left, after everything had happened. They'd fought, kissed, and Cosima had—she blushed, the sound of her name on Cosima's lips echoing in her head. She glanced up at Paul, who was still distracted by the ebb and flow of traffic in front of him.

_Cosima, you will never believe this. I just saw a deer in the middle of the street!_

It was barely thirty seconds before Cosima replied.

_Whoa. Did you meet her? Deer are good omens._

Delphine smiled. Leave it to this woman to respond in exactly the perfect way.

"Taxi!" Paul's voice sliced through her reverie, and she saw the vehicle pull up to the curb next to them. Paul opened the door and held out his hand. "After you, babe."

The entire cab ride, Delphine's fingers twitched. Paul was looking out his window, one hand wrapped around hers. She tried to plan how she could get away with it, texting Cosima back while he was right there, but she knew the light would catch his attention, and leave her conversation perfectly visible. She sighed, and glanced out the window, wondering what she should say, wondering what Cosima was doing, if she was with Billie.

It wasn't too long before they were in Paul's apartment, and he was pressing her against the door, leaving hot kisses where the wide vee of her neckline left her skin exposed. He turned them, pushing her back toward his bedroom, the two stumbling blindly until they found it, falling into the plush comforter with a gentle puff. She landed awkwardly on her phone, stashed into a small pocket sewn into her skirt, and she shifted.

"Wait, wait." She felt it against her hip again, and she pushed lightly on his shoulders. "I just—I need to slip into something a little more comfortable."

He nodded, dazed, and sat up, letting her disappear into the connected bathroom. She opened the last text from Cosima, and it stared back at her. All the things she'd wanted to say ran through her mind, a jumbled tangle of words falling out like an overstuffed closet. All those words, but she could only think of one thing to say.

_I can't stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me._

She sighed, keeping the phone in hand, and looked at herself in the mirror.

_Come over._

_What about your girlfriend?_

The thought that Cosima might be with that rude, impulsive girl made her jaw clench. The woman in the mirror looked tired. Jealousy wasn't a good look for her.

_She's not my girlfriend, and she's not with me right now. I'm still at the party. Say the word and I'll be in a taxi._

She thought about it. For a minute, she seriously considered leaving Paul with his hand and fulfilling the questions her earlier encounter with Cosima had culled silently from the deep sea of her brain, like bioluminescent fish. What would it feel like? What would she taste like? Is it all in the hands, all in the tongue? Would Cosima take the lead or would she let Delphine experiment? _Delphine_ and _I'm gonna come_ bounced around inside her body, making themselves known in aches and spasming heat on her skin and deep in places she didn't realize were distinct, feeling parts of her.

"Delphine?" Paul called from the other side of the door. "You okay?"

"Yes." Her voice was just slightly louder than usual, so she could be heard through the door. "I'm coming." She stripped to justify her absence, and turned to the door. She paused, glancing back at the phone, sitting in judgment on the counter. She turned it over and opened the door, draping herself across the frame, and Paul—also naked now and settled back on the bed—looked over her with a wolfish grin.

"Get your ass over here."

She practically skipped over, straddling him, not wasting any time. Paul was a good lover, always had been. He was passionate, strong, and attentive. But something was missing. "Say my name." She whimpered, leaning back to ride him harder.

"Delphine." The word landed hollow in her body, spreading ice across her skin. She shuddered, and dropped forward again, swallowing her discomfort. Suddenly, it all felt wrong. The touch too rough, the sounds—grunts, groans, and ragged breaths, never sweet whimpers and moans and whispers. It was good, Paul was good. He was everything she could ask for in a partner and a lover. And yet, she only began to thaw again when she closed her eyes and thought of Cosima.

_What is happening to me?_


	9. Just Like Heaven

Cosima woke slowly, with the blurry ache only a hangover could provide. She let her eyes adjust to the light pressing against her lids, a smear of bright red—blood vessels and veins and skin. She opened them just a crack, immediately regretting it but keeping them open to force her eyes to accept that, as much as they hated it, she was awake and that was not going to change by keeping her eyes closed. She glanced around, opening them just a little more, and found herself on her bed, in her apartment. She was on top of the covers, she noted, and naked. She glanced around, finding white sheets all over the floor, smeared carelessly with paints, glitter, and brightly colored feathers.

 

“What the fuck?” She raised herself to her elbows, looking down at her own body, similarly covered in crafting supplies. _Oh, right. Felix and I painted last night._ _Wait,_ _was that last night? What time is it? Hell, what day is it?_ She brushed at her stomach, sending a flurry of feathers and glitters onto her bedspread.

 

“Hey, sleepy.” Felix sauntered in, dropping a mug onto her nightstand and settling next to her on the bed, crossing his ankles over one another. “How ya feeling?”

 

“Like shit.” Cosima rubbed at her forehead, feeling the rough stick of fake feathers instead of her skin, picking the object off and tossing it to the side. “Now I remember why I don't do ecstasy with you anymore.” She let herself fall back against her pillow.

 

Felix dropped her glasses onto her stomach. “Drink up. It'll help.”

 

She hooked them onto her ears, and picked up the mug from the nightstand. “Thanks.” She brought the ceramic to her lips, expecting the acrid bite of coffee. “Fuck, Fee. What is this?”

 

“Mimosa.” He replied calmly, taking another sip from his own cup.

 

“A depressant. Great. Thanks.” She shot back, taking another sip anyway.

 

“It'll help you sleep away the sadness.” His arm swept in a wide arc.

 

She grunted, taking another long gulp. At least the world couldn't get any _more_ fuzzy.

 

“You'll be okay, pumpkin.” He patted her on the thigh.

 

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

 

“Yep.” They sat in silence for another minute, both of them downing the alcohol hungrily, unwilling to endure the silent torture of their hangovers any longer.

 

“So, you wanna talk about it?” He asked finally, watching her from the corner of his eye.

 

“Talk about what?” She took another long gulp from her mimosa, keeping her eyes staring straight ahead.

 

“What happened yesterday.”

  
“Nothing happened. I'm fine.”

 

“Right. You just threw your phone against the wall for funsies, then?” There was a brief pause, Cosima's jaw pulsing as her teeth ground together. “Did you sleep with her?”

 

“No.” She snapped back quickly, finally turning to look at Felix. “No. But she watched me while I--” Cosima had never been shy talking about sex but for some reason, she couldn't choose a word that didn't feel bulky or uncomfortable in her mouth. “While I masturbated.”

 

“Kinky.” Felix shot back, earning him a chuckle and a small backhanded smack against his arm. “Seriously, though, that's good, isn't it? I mean, it's what you wanted. So why the phone smashing?”

 

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. “She started texting me, after the performance. She told me she wished I were there, that she couldn't stop thinking about me. I told her to come over, I even told her I'd kick Billie out when she got all cute and jealous. Then she just never responded.” She ran a hand through the thick mattes on her head, unusually untethered and swinging down around her shoulders.

 

“It sounds to me like she doesn't really know what she wants.” He was tracing her face and posture carefully with his eyes in the way he did when he wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

 

“It sounds to me like she's leading me on cause she can.”

 

“Maybe.” He nodded slowly. “Maybe. Or maybe you just waltzed in and knocked down her perfect little life and now she's not entirely sure what to do. She's clinging to the old life cause it's what she knows, even if it's not what makes her happy anymore.”

 

Cosima shook her head. “I don't know. That's a lot of pressure.”

 

“Yeah, it is. Asking someone to change everything for you is a big deal.” He responded, eyes unfocused on the tree beyond her large bay window.

 

Her eyes caught on him, distracted and dreaming out the window. “Felix.” She reached a hand out to him, stroking his arm. “Is something going on?”

 

“What? No.” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Well, I guess there's that I met this guy. Colin.” Felix started, rolling the words on his tongue, clearly hiding more than he was revealing.

  
“You meet lots of guys, Fee, what is it about this one?” She had rested her head on its side now, so that she could watch the hesitance that seemed built into the twitch of his muscles, the slight frown on his lips.

 

“He's just so... nice. Sweet. And hot, too. And smart. And funny.”

 

“I'm not seeing a problem so far.” Cosima was smiling against her knees. There was something in Felix right now she couldn't recall seeing more than once or twice before. There was a dreaminess, a lack of focus. He was untethered to the moment, a small smile tugging at his lips until he came back to reality and it would disappear again.

 

“I think he wants to _date_ me, Cosima.”

 

She laughed at the pure terror on his face, only feeling a little bad when he looked at his hands, slightly wounded. He was far more sensitive than he let on. “Hey, hey, hey.” She pulled him close to her by the shoulders, resting her head against his. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. I think it's great he wants to date you, Felix. You deserve a good guy to take care of you.” She stroked his arm with her thumb. “You're always taking care of everyone else.”

 

“All right, I think the estrogen in the room is on overload now, so I'm gonna--” He started to pull away, but she kept him tight against her.

 

“No, I'm serious, Fee. I was just telling Delphine about my past the other day, and I realized how lucky I am. You and Sarah protected me from the worst of it.”

 

“You pulled your weight.” He rolled his eyes, adding “you conned plenty of unsuspecting people out of their hard-earned cash.”

 

“Yeah, with my intellect. But you and Sarah, you sold your bodies, you know? And I never had to do that. Thank you.”

 

“We didn't have the heart to break it to you, but it was really just cause you were an awkward little number back then.” He finished the last of his mimosa and put it on the nightstand.

 

“Maybe, but I was propositioned enough times to know that the kind of men that fuck street kids for cash aren't the kind that are particularly picky.”

 

Felix sighed, giving in to the moment and wrapping his arm around Cosima's waist, holding her close against him. “You were a romantic. Still are. We couldn't kill that hope in you. Besides, you probably would've talked too much anyway. Science is such a boner killer.”

 

“You're a good brother, Fee.”

 

He smiled down at her, shoved at her forehead. “Okay, I get it. Now cut it out, will you?”

 

“All right, all right.” She stood, grabbing loose linen pants and a sweater out of her dresser. “I'll make pancakes.” She started walking toward the kitchen.

 

“Ooh! Use real butter for mine, please!” He shouted after her.

 

“Don't have any!” She shouted back, already rifling through her cupboards for flour.

 

He grumbled, standing. “All right, I'll go to the corner store and get some. You're almost out of orange juice, anyway.”

 

“I'll cook them in the butter, but the batter's gonna be vegan.” He waved her off and made it to the door before she called to him. “Hey, Felix?”

 

“Yeah, Cosima?” He turned, annoyed at being stopped again.

 

“I love you.” She was turned completely to him now, watching him standing at the door in yesterday's clothes, glitter everywhere, and hints of paint where he'd missed washing it off around his ears.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too.”

 

 

 

Dinner plans with Donnie and Alison. She'd forgotten until the moment Paul showed up at her door, flowers in hand, gray suit over a white button up. “You're not ready.” His disappointment was palpable. She prepared herself as quickly as she could, shouting over her shoulder to him from the bathroom.

 

“I've been working on my paper all day, I'm sorry.” She ran the eyeliner across her lid. “With Aldous coming into town tomorrow, I've been in a mad dash to get ahead.”

 

“Leekie's coming to town?” He suddenly appeared behind her, standing in the doorway, and she watched him in the mirror as she capped the pencil and traded it for her lipstick.

 

“Yes. I told you that, Paul.” She sighed, running the red over her lips.

 

“No, you didn't.”

 

She stopped, putting the lipstick down. “Yes. I did.” She turned, face fully made up, dressed up nicely, ready to go. “Why does it matter, anyway?”

 

He motioned for her to follow him, late as they already were, talking as they headed out the door and down to the car. “You've just been so busy lately. It'd be nice to spend as much time with my girlfriend as Niehaus does.”

 

“What? What does Cosima have to do with this?” She clicked her seat belt in place. “I thought we were talking about Aldous.”

 

“We were, and now we're not.” Paul's tone was flat as he pulled out of the parking spot, merging into the (thankfully light) traffic. “Now we're talking about how everyone keeps telling me you fucked Niehaus at Clone Club.”

 

She let out a little breath, glancing to the window. “I didn't.”

 

“And I'm just supposed to believe you.” He said, shaking his head. “Jesus.”

 

“Yes. You are just supposed to believe me, Paul.” She snapped, turning to face him again. “I told you when she kissed me, and I told you that I turned her down. When have I ever lied to you?”

 

They settled into an uncomfortable silence.

 

“Look, I'm sorry. Okay? Let's just have a nice time.” He reached a hand across the way, taking her palm in his, smiling with sad eyes.

 

“Okay.”

 

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Donnie and Alison's company. They were nice, the conversation was always light and at least mildly entertaining. Paul was back to normal, falling into their company as easily as he always did. But something about spending time with them made her life feel so _permanent._ It felt middle aged, like two married couples getting out of the house just long enough to complain about their children. Paul and Donnie often teamed up, she never really got close with him, and she was left making conversation with Alison. After they ordered, she excused herself for a cigarette, fielding the jokes about her vice with practiced grace. This time, though, Alison offered to keep her company.

 

“It's a beautiful night, the fresh air is nice.” Alison commented while Delphine flicked her lighter until it caught the end of her cigarette.

 

“Mmm. Yes, it's been a beautiful spring.” Her words warped around the cigarette, tumbling awkwardly from her lips.

 

Alison nodded her agreement. “I bet it's going to be a hot summer.” Her left hand was playing with the ring on the other, sliding it up to her knuckle then back down, twisting it round in circles. “Can I ask you something personal, Delphine?”

 

_So that's why she wanted to come with._

 

“Of course, Alison.” Delphine turned to give her her full attention.

 

“I heard a rumor—it's probably not true, even, but I felt it would be wrong if I didn't ask you about it.” Alison smiled, worry showing only in the wrinkles of her forehead. “Are you... sleeping with Cosima?”

 

Delphine took a pull off her cigarette, letting her hand drop back to her side. “No.”

 

“Oh, good.” The wrinkles disappeared, her face smoothing completely into her smile. “It's not anything against Cosima, of course. She's... charming. And sweet. But she has a new girlfriend every week. And Paul is my friend.”

 

“I completely understand.” Delphine smiled back at her, hoping that the conversation would end there and Alison would go back inside.

 

“I know Donnie and I seem happy, but we've certainly had our struggles, as well. It's not easy being with the same person for a long time.”

 

“Wow, really? You two seem so perfect together.” She hoped the deadpan tone would slip by Alison unnoticed, as it normally did with Canadians, who took her occasional lack of affect as European aloofness.

  
“I know, I know.” Alison nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you just have to ask yourself in times like those: Who listens to me? Who makes me feel appreciated? Who does sweet little things for me, just to make me smile? Who gets me better than I get myself?” She glanced up at Delphine, face pulled into a thin line. “Who do I really love?”

 

“Absolutely.” She agreed, rolling the ember out of the tip of the cigarette and taking a few steps to the trash can to toss it. “Thank you, Alison.”

 

A man brushed between them, while the rest of the traffic chose to flow easily around them, squeezing between Delphine and the trash can.

 

“No problem.” She lit up. “We should probably get back to the boys.”

 

 

 

Her weekend was gone; eaten up completely by rolling with Felix and the day-long uselessness it entailed. She should have been working on a lecture she promised to give in one of Mrs. S's classes the next day, but instead she was listening to music, tapping out the rhythm against her kneecap, letting her head bob along the sound waves. The song changed, something new wave-y Felix must have put onto her computer. The lyrics came on, and her body hitched, froze in mid-tap. _Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick..._ Suddenly everything was smiles and glasses of wine, Brigitte Bardot and “ _you're such a brat”_ and dancing in Delphine's bedroom. The memories settled warmly in her chest, spreading an infectious energy into her limbs and her cheeks. She leaned, rummaging through her drawers and finding an old sketchbook and her micron pens. She restarted the song, listening to it on repeat until she'd written all the lyrics in perfect, neat script. It took up the entire page so she flipped it over, double clicking the song title again, splicing out of one song that had begun to play and back into the first.

 

She sketched for a while like that, replaying moments with Delphine, reliving the tingle of her skin, the pleasant nausea that had made itself home deep in her stomach. _You, soft and only. You, lost and lonely. You, just like heaven._ The felt tip of the pen scratched at the page, marring its off-white with strokes of deep black ink. When she finally glanced back up at her computer, it was seven pm. “Shit!” She woke the computer back up and pulled up her prezi. “Focus, Cosima. Come on.”

 

 

 

“Are we going to talk about it?” The silence they'd been riding in had not been uncomfortable, the evening with Donnie and Alison had been pleasant, good-enough, only awkward around the edges. But to Delphine it felt fake, she was still nursing the wounds of their earlier fight. She could not just let it slide past her.

 

Paul looked up at her, the gentle smile that had been resting on his face just a second go leaving no trace now. “Talk about what?” He looked back to the road.

 

“Our fight. How you don't trust me not to sleep with Cosima.” Her voice pitched upward. “How you don't trust me when I tell you that I didn't.”

 

“I said I was sorry, all right? I was angry.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What more do you want from me?”

 

“I want you to trust me.” She was watching his face, trying to tell whether he was hearing her words or simply brushing her off.

 

“I do.”

 

“No.” She let out a small sigh. “You don't. You don't, or we wouldn't ever have had this conversation in the first place.” She turned more in her seat to face him, the belt chafing against her shoulder. “You don't, or you wouldn't be acting so defensive right now.”

 

“They said people saw you follow her into Felix's bathroom.” His voice was quiet, matter-of-fact, unwavering.

 

“Yes. To talk. We just talked.”

 

“And I'm supposed to believe that? You'd sleep with anyone if you thought it'd help your career.” He snapped, eyes flickering to hers though his head stayed pointed forward.

 

She laughed a dry, cold laugh. “You're one to talk. Stop the car.”  


“What?”

 

“Let me out of the car.” She glanced around, getting her bearings, trying to decide if she'd need to call a cab or not.

 

“No, I'll just take you home.”

 

“I'll walk.”

 

“Delphine...”

 

“Stop the fucking car, Paul!” She finally snapped, glaring at him, showing him the full extent of the fury he'd stoked in her.

 

He pulled the car out and unlocked the doors. “We need to talk. We need to work this out. Running away isn't the answer.”

 

“If I stay near you right now, Paul, there is no hope for us working this out.” She slammed the door behind her and turned on her heel, taking the next few blocks in quick strides, making it home in ten minutes. She decided to take the stairs, tired as she was, to wear out the boiling fury vibrating in her limbs, spurring her to action.

 

By the time she got to her door, it had subsided a little, coming in waves as she replayed his words in her head, as she thought of all the things she wished she could say to him right now, to wound him. She pulled her keys out and reached for the door, pausing when she saw something sticking from between it and the frame. It was a piece of paper, heavy and thick between her fingers. On one side, a doe stood in a street light, the background obscured in thick black ink, the only color swirling in the twinkling, sad eyes. She flippedit over, smiling at the words to “Just Like Heaven” scrawled out in neat lettering.

 

"Cosima."

 

Alison's voice echoed in her head. _Who_ _listens to me? Who_ _makes me feel appreciated? Who does sweet little things for me,_ _just to make me smile_ _? Who gets me better than I get myself?_

 


	10. TV Party

Cosima lifted a leg over the bike's seat as it coasted, slowly, toward the door to her apartment building and dropped to the ground a few feet away, stumbling her and the machine to a stop in front of it. She tugged her bag over her shoulder and started to rummage for her keys, finding them settled neatly below her notebook at the bottom of it. Just as she moved to unlock the old wooden door, it swung open.

 

“Oh. Hey. You scared me.” Cal was there, smiling, Alison right behind him.

  
“Hey. Yeah. Late. As always.” She smiled back, still puffing for air from the hill a block before. “Where are you going? Did you end the meeting without me?”

 

Alison pushed past the two of them, shooting out “plausible deniability” in the perfect way she had of speaking everything, perfectly enunciated, perfectly unaccented, like a newscaster.

 

Cal laughed at her, at Cosima's frown. Cal was undyingly positive in a way that somehow didn't bother Cosima in the least. “Yeah, I'm jetting, too. Kira having one parent in prison would be tragic, but both is just tacky.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Definitely can't have that.” Cosima quipped back, reaching down to pick her bike up and rest the frame on her shoulder, getting ready to carry it up the stairs.

 

Cal ran a hand through his hair, always perfectly tousled. “Whoa, hold up. I think someone's looking for you.”  
  
“What?” She followed his gaze to a car parked in front of the building. A very familiar car, with a very familiar driver. “Oh.”

 

“Good luck, buddy.” He patted her on the shoulder, then turned and followed Alison, who was waiting on the corner for him, posture screaming _indignant._

 

“Thanks.” She dropped her bike just inside the door and headed back out to the car, leaning into the open window. “Hey there, stranger.” She smiled, resting her chin on her folded arms. “Did you come here to talk to me, or do I have a new stalker?”

 

Delphine smiled, turning and leaning her head sideways against the headrest. “No, I'm not stalking you. Not yet, at least. Would you like to get in?”

 

“Sure. Or you could, you know, come up to my apartment.” She pointed her thumb vaguely behind her. “But Sarah and Felix are there, so you can't jump my bones or anything.”

 

“The car is fine.” The doors unlocked with a crisp, coordinated snap and Cosima let herself in.

 

“Okay. What's up, buttercup?” She intentionally popped her P's, and Delphine smiled an off-kilter smile that twinkled in her eyes.

 

“Well, I was having a terrible evening.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and began to unfold it. “And then I came home and found this stuck in my door.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Cosima rubbed the back of her neck. “Was that, like, bad boundaries? 'Cause I was listening to the song, and it just made me think of you, and I started drawing, and I just thought you should have it.” Delphine cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, your boundaries are, like, super hard to keep track of.”

  
“Yes. I'm sorry about that.” Delphine's smile faded slightly, and she glanced down at the drawing in her hand, the lyrics staring hard and firm back at her. “But actually, I came because it made me smile. And because I wanted to thank you, in person.”

 

Cosima nodded. “Right on. It was no problem, you're a great inspiration.”

 

“I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult.”

 

She laughed, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Good point, good point. I'm inclined to say it's a good thing, but it's kinda hard to tell sometimes.”

 

Delphine's hand moved, from her own knee to Cosima's thigh, tracing patterns that fluttered from hem to skin and back. “I'm sorry.” She said quietly, watching her own thumb as though it were moving without her. “You are so wonderful, and I have been such an—an--”

 

“Asshole.” Cosima supplied, smiling. “It's okay, Delphine.”

 

“No, it's not.” She finally glanced up to meet her eyes, hair brushing her cheeks as she shook her head. “You make me happy. I want to make you happy, too.” She slipped her thumb beneath the hem of Cosima's shorts, just to feel the strong thigh flex beneath her, then back out, back to the pattern it had been tracing before.

 

“You do make me happy, Delphine.” Cosima shifted, the small slip not going unnoticed in the least. “Totally, stupidly happy.”

 

Her hand moved from thigh to cheek, tracing the hollow of it, loving the soft bristle of peach fuzz against her skin. It was past her consciousness, at that point, what would happen. She did not will it, as was often—perhaps always—the case with Cosima, but she had brushed forward in a rush of stale air and passion and pressed their lips together, sighing into her. Cosima traced the crest of Delphine's upper lip with her tongue. Cosima's fingers were tangled into the belt loop at her hip. Cosima was pressing her upper body forward into Delphine, trying to get as close to her as she could. And it had all set a steady beat in Delphine's head. _Cosima, Cosima, Cosima._

 

She pulled back, breathing shakily, turning back to face the steering wheel and placing her hands on it, anchoring herself to her vehicle, her life. “I'm sorry.” She breathed.

 

“I'm not.”

 

Delphine shook her head, hands tightening on the wheel. “Why can't I stop kissing you?”

 

“Well,” Cosima was all pomp and cocky smile and soft intense eyes now, shifted still to face Delphine. “If you experience our kisses even remotely the same way I do, it's because it's good. Fucking _spectacular,_ Delphine.”

 

She nodded, agreeing silently. The words bounced in her head. _Cosima likes kissing me. Thinks kissing me is spectacular._ “Can I—Could we—again?” She glanced up from the corner of her eye, tilting her chin just slightly, suddenly feeling like a teenager out on a first date.

 

“Absolutely.” Instead of rushing in for the kiss as most people might, she grabbed one of Delphine's hands, easing it from the steering wheel to her own shoulder, and tilted her head so she could look at her. Her eyes traced the sharp juts and soft curves of Delphine's face for a minute, her tongue coming out to moisten her lips.

 

Delphine had the strange feeling that she was waiting for something. A sign neither of them knew the shape or design of, just that it was coming, just that it should be anticipated. She began looking around the car for what it might be, what could possibly be standing in the way of this kiss she wanted so intensely it crawled around on her skin. “Cosima, what--”

  
“Shh.” Cosima shushed her, their eyes reconnecting. “Patience.”

  
Delphine eased into the seat, into her skin, still not sure what was happening but willing to accept whatever ritual Cosima was acting out. She felt her muscles, ones she hadn't been aware were tense, release and settle into their places. She let the moment settle, let her mind settle until she did not care when Cosima kissed her, until a kiss would be nice, but this was good, too. Just having this moment with her.

 

“I'm gonna kiss you now.” Cosima said, quietly, like she might startle her.

 

Delphine nodded, and their lips brushed, gently, Cosima's parting just enough to tease lightly at Delphine's bottom lip with her tongue. The muscle disappeared, lips closing and repositioning over her top lip, repeating its same pattern, then closing again. She was varying the pressure of their lips, nodding forward and pulling back, lapping like the tides against the shore. It was slow, measured, but no less passionate than any other they'd shared. Delphine opened her lips and slipped her tongue out to meet Cosima's, briefly, just enough to send a jolt through her.

 

“Cosima.” The word tumbled lazily out of her mouth, all breath and want, making her realize the breadth of her desire. The lips against hers pressed harder now, spurred forward, pulling Delphine closer.

 

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck.” Cosima staggered, then jolted, sitting upright suddenly in her seat.

 

“Qu'est-ce que--” Delphine tried to shake the fog from her brain, tried to translate. “What's wrong?”

 

But Cosima had already tugged her phone free from the tight fabric at her hip, holding it up to her ear. “What, Sarah?”

 

She shot Delphine an apologetic smile, reaching a hand up to trace her lips.

 

“I'm kind of in the middle of something.”

 

Delphine nipped at her thumb, then smoothed over the tip with her tongue.

 

“Shit, is it really that late?” Cosima's eyes fluttered shut, encouraging Delphine to action, and she took the digit into her mouth up to the first knuckle. “Okay. Yeah, I'll be there in a--” the word came out in a breathy whimper when Delphine dragged her tongue up along the underside of her finger. “--minute.” She smirked at Delphine, an expression about ready to burst at its seams. “Yeah, I'm fine. I gotta go. See ya.” She hung up the phone and pulled Delphine back into her, into one final, impatient kiss.

 

“What are you doing later?” Delphine murmured, wanting an invitation, wanting this moment to go on indefinitely.

 

“Usually, these meetings go on forever. How about this weekend?”

 

“I can't this weekend.”  
  
Cosima groaned, leaning back against the seat. “Fuck. Fuck Rimbaud. Fuck Sarah.” She rubbed at her forehead. “Okay. Well, soon. Right?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Delphine tried to smile convincingly, tried to feel grateful that Sarah and Felix were there to stop her from doing something she could potentially regret, but she just couldn't muster it.

 

“All right. Then... bye.” Cosima leaned in for another peck, then swung herself out the car door.

 

 

 

“Well, it's about bloody time.” Felix snapped when the door clicked shut behind her.

 

“I know, I know. I'm hella late. Sorry.” She dropped her bike in the corner of the apartment, up against the far wall, and pulled her wine and three glasses from the cupboard.

 

“You wanna tell us what you were up to that was so important you had to keep us waiting half an hour?” It was Sarah's turn to lay into her.

 

She laid the glasses on the desk, filling them and shaking her head. “It wasn't anything.”

 

“Oh, my god.” Realization dawned over Felix, and he covered his gaping mouth with his hand in a billow of melodrama. “It was Delphine, wasn't it?”

 

“No. Not everything in my life revolves around her, believe it or not.” She pulled a spare chair up to the desk and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “Can we talk about--”

 

“We already know, Cos. Cal told us.” Sarah's face had softened into something resembling concern, and Cosima felt it like a tidal wave of cold ocean water. “What happened? Why aren't you telling us?”

 

“Okay. Yeah, it was her. We were just talking, it's not important. Now can we start the--”

 

“Talking about what?” Felix again, leaned forward, glass of wine casually in his hand, feigning disinterest.

 

“Can we talk about it after the meeting, please?” She was exasperated, and honestly a little freaked out, by their concern. Felix gossiping was no big surprise, but Sarah's soft revelation hinted at the gravity of the situation. A gravity she'd rather not deal with right now. She dropped her hand from the air by her head to the table, her fingers spread wide and facing the ceiling. “Can we be professional for like, ten minutes? This action is a big deal.”

 

Sarah and Felix made eye contact across the table, and Sarah nodded. “Yeah.” She reached down into her bag, laying out a blueprint across the desk. “Tony came through, got us the specs.”

 

Felix and Cosima leaned forward, twisting to get a better view, to get their bearings on the diagram. “That looks like it could be a good access point.” Cosima dropped her hand to a door, and all eyes followed.

 

“Holy shit, we're really gonna do this, aren't we?” Felix's eyes flickered from Sarah to Cosima and back again. “This is the ballsiest thing we've ever tried.”

 

The two women next to him nodded in solemnity, all of them taking in one anothers' countenance. Sarah was the first to crack. “It's gonna be fucking wicked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing constructive to say, except that there will probs be a lot more bromance happening in this story from here on out. I mean, Cophine is awesome and super fun to write, but I just love all of these characters.
> 
> These kids are all such troublemakers in my head, I'm loving getting to write it and hopefully you'll love getting to read it. Enjoy!


	11. Feels Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I'm sorry this chapter is shorter than usual, I've been battling some serious lack-of-motivation-because-sunshine-is-happening. BUT I hope to get another chapter up in the next few days, so keep your eyes peeled. As always, your feedback is wonderful and beautiful, Just. Like. You. Enjoy!

“Hey, beautiful.” Cosima grabbed Delphine by the waist, hooking so that her arm wrapped around her, tugging her closer.

 

 

 

“Oh. Hello, Cosima.” Delphine was resisting her pull, standing straight and still, plucking Cosima's arm off her waist. She glanced around the room to see if any eyes were on them. Everyone else was too busy milling about the foyer of the auditorium, discussing Mr. Leekie's impending lecture on Neolutionism, their weekends, catching up on one another's lives. “How are you?”

 

 

 

“I was doing a lot better a second ago.” Cosima's brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What's your deal?”

 

 

 

“We're in public, Cosima.” It was a statement of fact, so obvious it felt stupid the second it left her lips.

 

 

 

“Yeah, I'm aware. So what?” There was a pause, Delphine glancing down at her hands, which were occupying themselves with one another, and Cosima swaying back, expression dropping and widening. “You still haven't talked to Paul.” Her mouth snapped shut.

 

 

 

“I haven't even seen Paul since we last... spoke.” Delphine shrugged. “I have not had the opportunity to talk to him.”

 

 

 

“I am so stupid.” Cosima's hand was near her head, lightly tapping her temple as she spoke.

 

 

 

“No, Cosima. You are not stupid. Things are just so—so complicated.” Delphine reached for her arm, but it was twisted away before she could get more than a cursory grip on it.

 

 

 

“Oh, so now you want to touch me?” She snapped, shaking her head. “Whatever. It's my fault.” She fluttered her hand dismissively in the air. “Forget I said anything.”

 

 

 

“Cosima, wait.” Delphine called, even as Cosima disappeared into the crowd without so much as a twitch, a single falter in her step.

 

 

 

Her hand came up and ran through her hair, the smoothness of it against the webbing of her fingers calming her slightly. They dropped to her hips. She tried to imagine her life without Cosima, going back to Paul, to her routine, pretending nothing had ever happened between them. It would be easy, Cosima would never say anything and eventually Paul's suspicion would ease and they could move forward. They could get married, maybe have kids, amass an unnecessary amount of wealth. She and Paul worked together, they were a power couple, they belonged together, even. They wanted the same things, had similar interests. Yet, when she was with Cosima all that dropped away and there was just the two of them. Their disagreements were part of the appeal, Cosima was brash passion and Delphine was controlled calculation. They were oil and water in a hot pan—they sizzled and popped, they _burned_. They left scalding marks on one another that would not heal, that neither wanted to heal. Delphine sucked in a deep breath, sucked up her dignity, and pulled out her phone.

 

 

 

_You're right. I will talk to Paul as soon as I can._

 

 

 

Cosima grinned, holding the phone in her hand.

 

 

 

“The hell are you doing?” Sarah hissed, turning from where she was unsuccessfully trying to open the door in front of her. “Don't fuckin tell me you're texting your girlfriend right now. We have more important things to do.”

 

 

 

“What? Oh. Sorry. Yeah.” Cosima held the power button until the phone lit up then turned off, putting it back in her bag.

 

 

 

“Is your head here, with us?” Sarah snapped, eyes sparking, chilling Cosima's blood.

 

 

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm here. It's off.”

 

 

 

“Good.” She turned back to the lock, picking the next key from the giant ring, finally finding the one that worked. “Thank bloody Jesus.” She pulled the black bandana up over her mouth, Cosima doing the same. “You ready?” Cosima nodded.

 

  
They snuck into the room, finding themselves atop the stage, in the rafters. Cosima immediately went about setting up the technology while Sarah strung up the banner. It only took a few minutes, and then they were back outside the room, glancing at one another anxiously.

 

 

 

“All right, give me your gloves.” Sarah hissed, holding open her bag so that Cosima could drop the gloves and bandana into it. “I'm gonna go dump this and make a scene at the bar. You know where to rendez-vous with Felix, yeah?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, of course. This is gonna be so fucking rad.”

 

 

 

Sarah grabbed her shoulder, grinning wider. “Take a video for me.” They nodded at one another and split their separate ways, Cosima taking the freight elevator and Sarah the stairs.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cosima met up with Felix, slipping the small device into his back pocket, speaking low enough to be discreet and loud enough to not draw too much attention.

 

 

 

“Okay. So, there are two buttons. A small one on the top. That's the power button. Turn it on before the cue. You remember what that is?”

 

 

 

Felix nodded, “of course, Cos. We've only gone over it seven million times.”

 

 

 

“Good. I hacked into his computer already and set up the A/V portion. The tech is all set up in the rafters. When it happens, hit the big button in the middle and we're done.”

 

 

 

“And then I wash it, drop it in the drop spot. Got it. You're sure none of this will come back to Tony?” Felix whispered, eyebrows pushing his words earnestly.

 

 

 

“He said it was a clean grab, it won't be traceable to anyone, as long as there are no fingerprints and no one catches you dropping it.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Sarah's already gone. It's perfectly reasonable we would be here. Nothing will go wrong, okay?”

 

 

 

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. It's gonna be fine.”

 

 

 

“Don't chicken out.”

 

 

 

He backhanded her in the stomach. “I would never! Who do you think I am, Alison?”

 

 

 

They both snorted. “I'll see you at my place later, all right? I gotta go.”

 

 

 

Cosima pushed through the crowd loitering in the aisles as she searched for a seat, catching Tony's eye from across the room and practically running over to him.

 

 

 

“All set up?” He asked, as they moved through a row to find a seat, settling into their places comfortably.

 

 

 

She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “Yep. Out of my hands now.”

 

 

 

The lights dimmed, and an electronic note sounded through the auditorium, silencing and settling the crowd into their seats.

 

 

 

“Neolutionism.” Leekie began, his face projected onto the giant screen behind him. “An art movement for the future.” A large, gray eye flashed on the screen in front of his face. His lecture was interesting enough, sure, but Cosima could hardly pay it any attention. She was nervous, though she worked hard to make sure it didn't shine through her face or body language. She tensed, felt Tony do the same behind her. Works that Leekie had sponsored and exhibited flashed on the screen behind him, when suddenly a loud bang sounded out and glitter rained down from the rafters, a large banner dropping that read “Neolutionism = Appropriation” behind him.

 

 

 

He glanced up, surprised, just as the video she'd dropped into his presentation began playing, showing images and names of queer artists and artists of color whose works had been all but plagiarized by the artists Leekie showed at the MoMA. Hollers raised like hackles through the crowd, some in favor, some against, but _still_. A reaction is a reaction.

 

 

 

“Well.” Leekie chuckled, watching the video play out with a surprising calm. “Isn't this interesting.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She found him after the lecture in the foyer, still covered in glitter and flanked by Delphine and a gaggle of other art students. “Mr. Leekie, oh my gosh.” She gushed, stepping in between him and a couple of people she'd never met, swiping at his blazer as though it would rid him of some of the copious amounts of glitter. “Are you okay? That was insane.”

 

 

 

He chuckled, placing a hand on her arm so that she'd stop fussing over him. “Yes, yes, I'm fine. Believe it or not, I have to deal with the activist types quite a bit. It seems they're more concerned with my work than slave labor or mass genocide so clearly, their priorities are straight.” Everyone around him chuckled, even Delphine, though she did not even attempt a smile.

 

 

 

“This is an embarrassment to the college.” She said, when the laughter had died down, jaw tight. “I can't believe this happened. I hope they find whoever did this and find a way to make it right.”

 

 

 

_Jail_ . Cosima thought.  _She wants us put in jail. I wonder what she'd do if she knew._

 

 

 

“No, no, no. These things happen.” Leekie brushed her comment off, smile never faltering. “Although, I'm going to have to change before the party now.” He glanced up at Cosima, lips creeping open wider to reveal more of his teeth. “Which I don't believe you've been invited to, Cosima.”

 

 

 

“Oh. No.” She crossed her arms over her chest, still forcing the smile onto her face. “I don't think I've heard about it.”

 

 

 

“Well, you must come. I insist.” He picked up a pen, tore a piece of paper off the guest book and wrote down an address. “It starts at eight. You can be fashionably late, but don't keep me waiting too long.” He winked at her, and she felt her smile water down slightly.

 

 

 

“Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Leekie.”

 

 

 

“Good. Well, I should get going, change into something more... appropriate.” He turned to Delphine, wrapping his hands around her biceps, looking down into her eyes. “Are you coming with me?”

 

 

 

She glanced over at Cosima from the corner of her eye, then nodded. “Yes, of course.”

 

 

 

He leaned down, pressing their lips together, and Cosima felt as though her chest was hollow, as though her heart had not simply stopped beating, but had disappeared altogether.  _Things are just so—so complicated._ And then there was the beat again, in her stomach now, twisting and pulsing nausea into the lining.

 

  
“See you soon, Cosima.” And he walked off, trailing Delphine in his wake.


	12. Criminal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a quick update. I decided to throw in (what I'm hoping is) a cute little Cophine moment to ease your pain a bit. Apparently, the best cure for writer's block is having some of your favorite fics updated all in one night. Yesterday was magical. Anyway, maybe this chapter will make you hate Delphine a little less? (Like, just a smidge?) Maybe not. Thank you for reviewing, and enjoy!

"Oh, my gosh.” Felix gushed, leaning his elbows on Cosima's desk. “You _have_ to go.”

 

 

 

“No. You don't. Screw her, Cosima, she's playing you.” Sarah snapped back, turning back from where she sat in the large bay window, shaking her head.

 

 

 

Cosima sighed, bringing her hands up to her temples. “You guys are not helping.”

 

 

 

“Look.” Felix started, leaning back in the chair, eyeing Sarah through the gaping doorway between the bedroom and living room. “You're into her. That's something. You need to figure out what her deal is.”

 

 

 

“She's gonna break your heart, Cos.” Sarah's tone was yielding, begging. “Trust me.”

 

 

 

“You're gonna take advice from the woman in a long-term monogamous relationship with a former mark?” Felix raised his eyebrows.

 

 

 

“She's fucking that creepy old guy!” Sarah shouted, standing. “It's rubbish. You can't stand for that.”

 

 

 

Cosima dropped onto the bed, holding her head in her hands. “When it was just Paul, it was—but I shouldn't be surprised, right? I mean, she was with him the first time I met her.”

 

 

 

“She never mentioned this, though.” Sarah came and sat next to her on the bed, putting a soothing hand on her back. “She shoulda told you.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, you're right.” Felix joined them on the bed, sitting on the other side of Cosima. “Listen. I'm not saying forgive her. I'm saying go tell the twat off and see what she does. If she's into you, she'll fight. If not, drop her like a bad lay.”

 

 

 

Silence made itself known since Cosima had burst into her own apartment, ranting about Delphine's kiss with Leekie a few minutes ago.

 

 

 

“I hate to say this, but I think I might actually agree with Felix.” Sarah said quietly. “See where she stands, yeah? Force her to choose.” She shoved Cosima's shoulder, urging her up. “Go put on your sexiest dress, show her what she's missing, and if she doesn't do anything, then that's the end of it.”

 

 

 

“Okay.” She glanced between her two friends, letting out a small sigh. “At least I'll get to make her feel like an asshole before I never hear from her again.” She stood, strolling to her closet to search for her favorite red dress.

 

 

 

Sarah and Felix glanced at one another, wincing simultaneously. “You don't know that's what's gonna happen.” Felix offered over his shoulder without looking, partially to give Cosima privacy while she changed and partially because he didn't want to see his friend in pain.

 

 

 

Cosima wanted to ask him about Colin, wanted to know how the date went, suddenly realizing that  _Felix_ was fighting for  _love_. She couldn't risk it, though, in case he hadn't told Sarah. For someone who went through relationships like shots, Sarah was difficult to talk about love with. As far as she could tell, Sarah didn't believe in the concept at all. She stepped out in front of them and swept her hands down her body.

 

 

 

“What do you think?”

 

 

 

“You look hot, Cos.” Sarah spoke, encouragingly even, but her brow still furrowed deep with concern. “Go knock her dead.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _I suck so much at this.” Cosima was pouting, as she picked another rock up from the riverbed, flinging it uselessly into the water with a plop._

 

 

 

_Delphine laughed, shaking her head. “That's because you are doing it wrong.”_

 

 

 

“ _Hey, lay off. I'm a city girl.” Cosima nudged her with her shoulder, having to struggle against the gentle current to do so. “Think you can do better?”_

 

 

 

“ _I know I can.” Delphine smirked back, searching the river bank for a rock, lifting it up and examining it before dropping it and picking up another. “Use one like this.” She handed it over to Cosima, letting her feel the weight and shape of it, smooth and flat and slick from the water._

 

 

 

_Cosima handed it back to her. “Show me what you got, Cormier.”_

 

__  
“Pay attention.” Delphine instructed, grinning widely, holding the rock between her fingers before cocking her arm sideways and launching the stone across the water, skipping it three times before it finally sunk. “It's science, shouldn't you be good at this?” She teased, when she caught Cosima's furrowed brow.  


 

 

 

“ _Shut up.” Cosima muttered, holding up a rock. “Will this one work?”_

 

 

 

_Delphine examined it for a second before nodding. “Perfect.”_

 

 

 

_Cosima held the rock intentionally incorrectly in her hand, raising an eyebrow. “Like this?”_

 

 

 

“ _Non.” Delphine leaned across her, adjusting her grip on the rock with long, slender fingers, lingering so close they were practically embracing. Cosima's heartbeat stuttered in her chest, her lungs somehow seeming to lose track of that whole "breathing" thing. “Like that.”_

 

 

 

_Cosima swallowed. “Okay.” She cocked her arm sideways and threw it, getting one skip on the surface._

 

 

 

“ _Better.” Delphine was smiling at her, lips stretched broad and full, a small quirk at the corner._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cosima went to the party, watching Delphine hang off Leekie's arm, charming the guests at the after party. She was the perfect trophy girlfirend, just as she'd been at the gallery, laughing at exactly the right times, touching him whenever it was appropriate, complimenting all the guests with her smooth, velvety accent—just the way she'd won over Cosima when they'd first met.

 

 

 

She thought of the woman she'd befriended that day at the river, all smiles and teasing touches. The woman who wanted to be seen for who she was, who didn't care that Felix, Sarah and Cosima were art freaks—the kind she normally never would have spent time with. The woman who read her poetry, who smoked her first spliff with Cosima, so open and trusting. She wondered where that woman was, how she could be both these people at the same time, seamlessly.

 

 

 

She was suddnely grateful for the pot swirling her nausea into ease, calming the rage that would've incensed her to action by now. Instead, she bided her time, waiting for Delphine to slip away to the bathroom, leaning against the wall outside the door until Delphine opened it, eyes widening when she found Cosima there.

 

 

 

“Bonsoir, Cosima.”

 

 

 

“Don't 'bonsoir' me.” Cosima snapped, straightening, raising her back from the wall. “I'm not one of these idiots you can smile at and throw some French words around and make everything better with.”

 

 

 

Delphine sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Cosima--”

 

 

 

“No.” She waved a hand in the air, cutting her off. “No. What the fuck? You're cheating on Paul with me and Leekie? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

 

 

“I'm not cheating on Paul with Leekie.” Delphine's eyes caught Cosima's, but she cast them down, away from the penetrating eyes that shone green in the dim light of the hallway.

 

 

 

“Bullshit. I've been watching you. I _saw_ you.”

 

 

 

“Non. You don't understand.” Delphine took a step closer. “Look at me.” Cosima raised her eyes hesitantly, finding Delphine's full of earnest passion. “Paul knows about this. It's part of the reason I fought this so hard.” She motioned between the two of them. “Because things are complicated, and Paul—he understands that our looks are a tool. We have an agreement. He knows about Leekie, just like I know about--”

 

 

 

“Duncan.” Cosima cut her off, the sickness catching up to her inebriation. She brought her hands up to cradle her skull at the temples.

 

 

 

“Yes. How did you know about her?”

 

 

 

“He cheated on Sarah with her.” Cosima finally let her eyes flicker back to the floor. “I don't get it, though. You're smart, you're well-connected, your father's Marc Cormier, for christ's sakes.”

 

 

 

“Many people are connected, Cosima. Many people are intelligent, many people are good at what they do. And many of those people are also men.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't like it, but I don't have a choice.”

 

 

 

“Bullshit. There's always a choice.”

 

 

 

“He's offered me the assistant curator position.” Delphine blurted, grabbing Cosima's shoulder and pushing it back against the wall when she tried to leave. “Which means that I would be in line for his job, when he retires.”

 

 

 

“So you could be at the top of your field by—what? Thirty-five?” Cosima let out a small sigh. _I can't compete with that._

 

 

 

“Auntie Cosima!” She only balked for a second before she knelt, sweeping the running child up into her arms in a smooth gesture, grinning weakly at her.

 

 

 

“Hey, monkey! What are you doing here?” The child placed a peck to her cheek. “A famous artist already.”

 

 

 

Kira turned a bashful eye to the floor. “No, Mrs. S brought me. She said she couldn't find a sitter so I'd have to come with.”

 

 

 

“Well, that's a shame. They'll recognize your brilliance soon enough.”

 

 

 

Kira tugged at Cosima's scarf, leaning in to whisper something into her ear.

 

 

 

“Oh. Uh,” she glanced up at Delphine briefly, frowning, before responding, “yeah.” Kira whispered something else to her, and she shook her head, sadness settling into the spots in her irises. “No, munchkin.”

 

 

 

“Why?” The girl furrowed her brow, looking between the two women. “That doesn't seem fair.”

 

 

 

“Well, sometimes life isn't fair.” Cosima's tone was diplomatic, tinged with pain but surprisingly calm. She was hating her promise to Sarah she'd always tell the girl the truth right now.

 

 

 

“But if you want to kiss her, she should be your girlfriend.”  
  


 

Delphine felt the words land hard in her chest and she looked away, at the linen closet at the far end of the hallway.

 

 

 

“Yeah. I mean, it would be great if it worked that way, Kira. But—has anyone ever kissed you without your consent?”

 

 

 

Kira's face furrowed deeper.

 

 

 

“That means without you wanting them to.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Kira nodded. “There's this boy, Jessie, he kissed me on the playground once even though I told him not to.”

 

  
“And that wasn't fair, either. Was it?” Cosima lifted an eyebrow, and the little girl shook her head obligingly. “Sometimes even though we want to kiss someone,” her eyes flickered to Delphine, “we can't cause they don't want to kiss us back.”

 

 

 

Kira nodded sagely, getting it without really fully understanding.

 

 

 

“There you are, chicken.” Mrs. S came up the hallway, grinning at the little girl. “What did I say about running off without me?”

 

 

 

“Don't do it.” Kira admitted, burying her hands deeper into Cosima's scarf. “But I saw Auntie Cosima and I wanted to say hello.”

 

 

 

“I see that.” Mrs. S smiled. “How about you run on into the bathroom? I'll wait for you out here.”

 

 

 

Kira nodded again, and Cosima eased her to the floor, letting the girl walk into the bathroom.

 

 

 

“Hello, Delphine.” Mrs. S smiled at the two of them. “Nice to see you again.”

 

 

 

“Oui. Always a pleasure, Siobhan.”

 

 

 

“You two know each other?” Cosima's eyebrow headed for her hairline.

 

 

 

“Yes, of course. The art world is rather small, as you know. Her father is a good friend.” Mrs. S replied, still smiling curtly.

 

 

 

“I'd love to catch up, but I should get back to the party.” Delphine raised a hand gently to Siobhan's shoulder, before brushing past.

 

 

 

“Yes. You do that. Lovely to see you as always, Delphine.” She waited until Delphine was out of earshot before turning on Cosima. “So, you're sleeping with a Cormier, are you?”

 

 

 

“No, we haven't slept together, but--”

 

 

 

“I don't need to hear it, Cosima.” Mrs. S shut her down, holding up a hand. “It's a bad idea.”

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“Look. I've watched that girl grow up, and I get it. She's charming and beautiful. She's also driven, and she knows how to play the game.” Siobhan explained, with the gentle admonishment of a wearied parent. “Even if she truly cares about you, it doesn't mean she won't step on you on her way to the top.”

 

 

 

“I'm falling for her, Mrs. S.” Cosima rubbed at her forehead. “It's a little late now.”

 

 

 

Siobhan grabbed her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “Cosima. Trust me. Stay away from that girl.”

 

 

 

Cosima had known Mrs. S—the woman who had given her everything, a new life, a new education, a new career—long enough to know there were three levels to her maternalism. The first was listening: nodding, a hand on the back, pulling you gently to her side; the second was advice, gentle guidance that pushed you in the right direction (and she was almost always right); and commands. This was the latter. _Do as I say._ Her look drove the point into Cosima's heart. The door reopened, and Kira emerged smiling.

 

 

 

“Ready.” The girl beamed, and Siobhan took her hand, shot Cosima one final, pointed look and headed back to the party.


	13. Know Better Learn Faster

“Hey, guys!” Cosima shouted, waving to Felix, Sarah, and Cal who were waiting for her outside the building that housed Beth and Art's dance studio. They were all running late, as usual, and Alison had decided to just meet them there rather than risk the stain of their tardiness on her pristine reputation.

 

The collective had been begging the two dancers—from an underground scene, not the university—to join for a long time, but the pair dragged their feet and put off the decision. Until recently, that is, when Beth had called and said they wanted to join.

 

“ _Art figures we could use the exposure, your parties are getting huge.”_

 

“So, are you gonna tell us what happened at the freaky Leekie party, or should we just keep pretending you came home last night?” Sarah asked, out of the blue.

 

“Relax, I was at Billie's.” Cosima waved off the comment, pushing open the glass doors.

 

“That bad, huh?” Cal put a hand on her shoulder, offering a small smile.

 

“No, it wasn't bad, necessarily.” She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “He offered her a cushy job.” She spoke slowly, wanting to gauge the others' reactions. When they didn't respond, just watched her with variants of wary and expectant, she continued. “Paul knows about it. They have an arrangement.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, forcing her glasses up onto her knuckles. “I don't know, we didn't really get to talk about it. Mrs. S showed up and told me to stay away from her.”

 

“She's usually right, you know.” Felix prodded. “Spot-on advice giver, that one. Raging twat, but solid advice.”

 

“Yeah, I don't think it was advice, exactly.”

 

“Ah, an order then.” Sarah saluted, grinning. “Better do as she says.”

 

“Wait. So, no one's gonna address that she's practically prostituting herself out to this guy for a job?” Cal asked, holding a hand out. “Come on, that's gross.”

 

“Cal, I'm a rent boy.” Felix stopped in his tracks, fixing Cal with a raised eyebrow and tight lips. “I don't really have room to judge who she sleeps with or why. Besides, Leekie's kind of sexy in that creepy grandpa kind of way.” All three of them scrunched their noses at him, and he just shrugged.

 

“Felix's weird fetishes aside, it's a bad situation.”

 

“ _And,”_ he continued, raising his hand to silence him, “your current girlfriend and baby mama only hooked up with you because you have a trust fund.”

 

He sighed, shaking his head. “I just don't think it's right.”

 

“It's not.” Cosima agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don't know, I mean, she doesn't _have_ to do it, does she? It's not the same as you or Sarah. Her family's loaded.”

 

“I do it because I love it.” Felix snorted. “I could easily get a job flipping hamburgers with pimply teenagers, but I love my flawless skin _and_ having more sex in a week than you do in a year.”

 

“Okay, okay. Whatever. Can we not talk about this right now? I just have to think about it.” She pushed the door open, pausing at the scene in front of her.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Sarah let out a wolf whistle. “Way to go, Childs!”

 

 

 

“Five, six, seven, eight!” Art tapped out the beat with his foot, then turned into the move, sliding and twisting around Beth with grace. They were attuned to each other now, could expect one another's movements, saw their errors and their perfections and could adjust to keep in rhythm and step. Beth had been one hundred percent on board with joining the collective, Art had been the hesitant one. She remembered a conversation she'd had with the group, her friends, where Sarah had asked why she couldn't just join without him, go solo. _Dancing isn't like the visual arts. It's all about connection. When you find someone you have chemistry with, you stick by their side._ Beth took a few running steps just as Art slid toward her and she jumped, twisting onto her back to roll over his. A slight miscalculation—just the smallest one—sent them both tumbling to the floor.

 

“Christ, Childs!” He snapped, shoving her off of him. “Where's your fucking head today?”

 

“I know, I know.” She groaned, sitting up on her elbows and rubbing her head. “I'm sorry, I just can't get the jump right.”

 

“I can see that.” He hauled himself to his feet, brushing non-existent dust from his sweats. “Look, I'm gonna run to the store, pick us up some gatorade. Take twenty to cool off, all right?”

 

Beth nodded. “Yeah. All right, boss.”

 

“Fuck off.” He shot her a smile, still managing to look thoroughly disgruntled despite it, and stalked off toward the door. “Hey, Alison.” He nodded toward the girl leaning against the wall.

 

“Hey. Ali.” Beth scrambled to her feet. “You're early.”

 

“Yes. Well, my mother always stressed being punctual. If you're not, you're pretty much saying 'eff you' to the person waiting for you.” She explained, giggling nervously, taking a few steps forward. “Are you all right? That seemed like a pretty nasty fall.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. This is nothing.” Beth waved her off. “You should've seen what happened at the last competition. Let's just say I misjudged the length of the stage.”

 

“Don't worry about it, you look great out there.” She smiled, bringing a hand up to toy with the necklace resting between her breasts.

 

“You look pretty good yourself.” Beth grinned back, raising one eyebrow.

 

“Beth.” Alison glanced to the floor, to the small cross in her fingers. “I meant the routine. It's very—sensual.” A small blush rose to her cheeks, and she tried to eye Beth's abdomen, exposed by the sports bra she was wearing, without being noticed. “And technically advanced, I'm sure.

 

“Oh, yeah. Art's really outdone himself this time. But it looks harder than it really is.” Beth grabbed her wrist, pulling her farther onto the vast wooden floor. “Here, I'll show you how to do it. The first step's the body roll, so you wanna just...” She leaned back, starting the roll in her chest until it popped out her hips.

 

Alison copied her, bringing her hands up near her chest, her body moving smoothly.

 

“Wow.” Beth was nodding, eyebrows shooting up. “You're really good at that.”

 

Alison slapped at Beth's arm, shaking her head. “Don't tease me.”

 

“I'm not teasing.” Beth took a step forward, placing a hand on Alison's stomach, walking around her and letting the arm wrap. She pressed a button on the remote, tossing it to the side when the music started back up. “The next step is doing it together.” She breathed into her ear, starting the roll again, feeling Alison respond and match her body exactly.

 

“We shouldn't be doing this, Beth.” Alison whispered back, though she was still moving in tandem with the one pressed into her back. “Donnie and I are back together now.”

 

“Shouldn't be doing what? Dancing?” She couldn't see Beth's face, but her voice was quiet and hoarse in her ear, Beth's sweat clinging to her clothes and making them stick together, and it all sparkled along her skin.

 

“You know that's not what I'm talking about.” She stopped moving and glanced over her shoulder, eyes connecting with Beth's, not thinking enough to stop her when their lips pressed together and a quiet whimper blended into the music blaring around them.

 

“Holy shit!”

 

They both glanced up, just in time to watch Sarah press her fingers to her mouth and let out a lecherous whistle. “Way to go, Childs.”

 

Her cheeks burned, and she shoved Beth away. “I have to go.” She gathered her purse from the corner and muscled past the other collective members, keeping her eyes to the floor.

 

“Oh come on, Alison. Don't be like that!” Felix called after her, “we all knew already! Alison!” He jogged after her, leaving Cal, Sarah, and Cosima gasping and giggling in her wake.

 

“Wow. Apparently Alison's more interesting than I gave her credit for.” Cosima managed through her laughter, eyes shining with an odd sort of approval.

 

“Hey. Lay off.” Beth snapped, turning off the music and placing the remote gingerly on the bench pressed up along the side of the room.

 

“Sorry, you're right. Sorry.” Cosima raised her hands up.

 

“Let it go, Childs. It was funny.” Sarah dropped onto the bench next to her

 

Beth's head hung between her knees, rested in shaking hands. “I think I like her, Sarah.” She said quietly, not even glancing up at the other people in the room.

 

“Obvs.” Cosima took a seat on her other side, rubbing at her back in gentle circles.

 

“She's dating someone else, though.” She finally glanced up, first at Cosima, then Sarah and Cal in turns. “Am I a terrible person for not caring?”

 

Sarah caught Cosima's eye briefly, unspoken words flashing between the two. “No. That's her problem.”

 

“She obviously likes you, too.” Cosima piped in. “She just needs to figure her shit out.”

 

Beth snorted. “She's not gonna pick me. If it comes down to it, she'd never pick some broke loser over the guy going for his MBA. He has a high-paying job at his Dad's company the second he graduates, and he'll take her to the suburbs where they'll have kids and—and go to performances like mine for 'urban culture.'” She stood, swiping a towel off a hanger nearby. “I'm gonna take a quick shower, I'll see you in a minute.”

 

“Looks like you're not the only one in a shitshow of a relationship. I always tell you two not to mess around with straight girls.” Sarah stood, as well, running a hand through her hair.

 

“You're a straight girl, Sarah.” Cosima sighed, leaning back.

 

“Yeah. Well, then, I've got insight or some shit, don't I?” She crossed her arms. “That whole group is bad news.” She shot an apologetic look at Cal. “No offense to your bandmate.”

 

“None taken.”

 

 

It had been four days since the disastrous lecture, and the even more devastating afterparty. Of course, nothing bad really happened, but to Delphine it couldn't have gone worse. Everybody loved her, complimented Leekie on his taste (which never ceased to feel skin-crawlingly disgusting), and drank too much. Everybody crowded around Leekie and were _so sorry_ for what had happened during his lecture, were so quick to disavow the people who had done it— _probably not even students_ , they'd reassured him, _just some fringe activists with trust funds and nothing better to do._ She'd laughed and smiled at the appropriate times, but her head remained across the room, with Cosima who was pointedly ignoring her. Cosima, who wouldn't even spare the energy to glare at her or make a scene or start a passive aggressive conversation. Instead, she spent the entire night charming the rich and powerful with her easy, eccentric affability, discussing her art and making connections seamlessly.

 

And it made Delphine hate her. She hated her for how easily she brushed what they had aside, for how harsh she'd been, for how she refused to even try to understand Delphine's situation. Things with Leekie had begun easily enough, she met him when she was sixteen at one of her father's parties and he was so intelligent and charming. Because he lived in America, she rarely saw him, until one day, he popped up again, offered to show her around New York, where she'd gone for her undergrad. He'd been easy to talk to, wise and genial at the same time. She'd accepted his offer for a nightcap, thrilled in the rush of the attentions of a much older, wiser man. He'd been undeniably attractive then, too, a full decade ago. Before he'd gone gray and bald, before his skin had begun to sag and sink over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. She'd reveled in getting to see him the way no others did—vulnerable, open, sometimes with glasses, or in simply boxers and a tank top. She got to see someone beyond the man in the perfect suits, beyond the charm.

 

Slowly, it grew beyond what she'd realized. Suddenly, he expected to see her when they were in the same city, lavished expensive gifts on her, told her he did not care if she dated men her age, that he expected it, that it didn't bother him. _You're a beautiful young woman, Delphine. You deserve a beautiful young man._ He hadn't pushed—not exactly, but she never even attempted to end things, despite her growing awareness that the novelty—the thrill—of being with him had long since worn off and lapsed their relationship into a series of rote play acting different interactions, of routines. It was the way things were now, even as her attraction to and interest in him waned. It was the most successful relationship she'd ever had, up until Paul. But Paul got it. Cosima didn't, wouldn't ever. It made her want to slam her hands on tables, to yell until she had no air left because the idea of losing Cosima to this pierced her heart and spread poison to her extremities, numbing her skin.

 

It had been four days where her texts and phone calls went unanswered. Even while Leekie still lingered in town, she'd been thinking of Cosima, sending her messages begging to meet up, and she'd been met with silence, the same background of her phone, unchanged by incoming texts or phone calls.

  
“I kissed her again.” Delphine crossed her arms, resettling against her kitchen counter in an attempt to feel comfortable in her skin.

 

“What?” Paul stopped pouring the wine, glancing up at her. She took a second to study his face, chiseled and dimpled and smooth, speckled and darkened with five o clock shadow. His steely gray eyes, which were narrowed slightly as he watched her, silently. Waiting. She was so familiar with it now, could feel each groove beneath her fingertips still. She wondered when his handsomeness had stopped being so striking, when she'd grown accustomed to his beauty.

 

“After we fought, I went to her house and we kissed.” She glanced to the floor. “I would have stayed if I could have.”

 

“Why didn't you?”

 

“She had friends over.” Delphine looked back up at him to see he still hadn't moved, except to lower the bottle down to rest. He leaned his other hand flat on the table, and let his head hang.

 

“What did I do?” He looked back up into her eyes. “Did I—did I treat you poorly? Was I bad in bed?”

 

“Non. Non, Paul.” She took a step forward, but he straightened up, placing himself out of arm's reach with the table between them. “You didn't do anything.” She finished, voice sounding stretched and weak even to her.

 

“Then why? Why her and not me?” His jaw was clenched tight, eyes hard and shining.

 

Delphine crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't know. You are a wonderful man, Paul. If I could have stopped myself from falling for her, if I could have kept things the same, I would have.” She brought a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes with her palm. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

 

“She's gonna drop you the second something hotter comes along.” He snapped, eyes flaring. “It's what that group does, you know that right?”

 

“I've been told, yes.” Her shoulders tightened up to her ears. “I think she already has, anyway.”

 

“Good.” He walked to the door, plucking his blazer off the hook there. “Not even Niehaus deserves to be lied to and cheated on.” He slammed the door behind him, shaking the walls of her apartment so hard a painting dropped to the floor, thudding then slamming onto its face with an even louder thwack.

 

She just stared at it for a minute, before walking over to the table and finishing pouring the glass of wine with shaking hands.

 

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, staring at the fallen painting when there was a knock at her door but it felt as though time had frozen, entombed her in her isolation and the knock cracked her casing. She rose, unsteady on her legs, but managed to make it to the door and pull it open.

 

“Alison?” She squinted at the figure that practically fell into her apartment, stumbling from where she'd been leaning on the door.

 

“Delphine, I need to talk to you.” The girl was drunk—hopelessly so.

 

“Alison, how much have you had to drink tonight?” She caught her by the armpits as she fell toward her, pulling her back upright and keeping her hold on her as she swayed.

 

“Just an eensy weensy bit.” She grinned, leaning too close for Delphine's comfort, and stage whispering “and maybe a xanax or two.” She winked at Delphine then swayed backward too far and almost stumbled back out the door, lucky to be held so tightly by someone so much taller than her.

 

“Okay. Well, why don't you come sit on the couch?” Delphine shut and locked the door, steadying Alison until she collapsed in a pile onto the sofa.

 

“God, Delphine.” Tears started to tumble down her cheeks, and she inhaled sharp, panicked breaths. Alison was not a graceful crier. “How do you do it?”

 

“Do what? What happened?”

 

“I effed it!” She yelled, flinging a hand dramatically to the side, knocking a picture frame off the end table. “Oh, Jimmy Carter, I effed that, too!” She leaned over the arm to look for the frame, but Delphine pulled her gently back by the arm.

 

“Alison, s'il vous plait.” She reached up to wipe the tears from her face. “Tell me what happened.”

 

“Beth.” She sputtered. “We—while Donnie and I were on our break, we--” she dropped back to her stage whisper “made love.”

 

“Oh. I—I did not know. Who is Beth?” Delphine gave up on trying to wipe away the tears, as it was succeeding only in soaking her thumbs and spreading the salty water across Alison's cheeks, making them shine.

 

“She's this dancer.” She shook her head. “She's so beautiful, Delphine. And funny, and she _cares_ , you know? Like, she asks me how my day went and actually wants to know the answer. Not like Donnie.” She flung her hand again, coming dangerously close to taking out a lamp before Delphine caught her wrist, and brought it back to rest between them. “Stupid, stupid, lumpy Donnie.” Her crying, which had begun to subside while she talked about Beth, came back in full force now, charging out of her in a mangled sob.

 

“Merde.” Delphine rubbed at her forehead. “Why don't you just be with Beth, then?”

 

“Why don't you just be with Cosima?” Alison snapped back. “I thought you of all people would understand my predicament.”

 

Delphine, satisfied that Alison had calmed enough to not break anything else, let go of her wrist and leaned back into the plush sofa. Their situations were similar, _strikingly so_. Hers was just a tad more complicated, but still. “I wish I could.” She admitted. “I broke up with Paul tonight, and Cosima won't answer my text messages.”

 

“Oh. Oh. I'm sorry, Delphine.” Her hand came up to cover her gaping mouth. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.”

 

“It's okay. Really.”

 

Alison relaxed again, nodding. “I just don't know if I can give up everything I have with Donnie. He's good, you know? He has a bright future. He would be a great father, I could have my dream life with him. And then there's Beth, who is so passionate and so creative and so good at what she does, but she's not even in school. She'll never make any money, and I don't think she wants kids, and even if she did, I _certainly_ can't see her co-captaining the kids' soccer team with me.” Her eyes connected with Delphine's, full of panic. “What do I do?”

 

“I can't answer that for you, Alison. I would say follow your heart, but that's what I did, and I got my heart broken.” She shrugged. “All I can say is learn from my mistake, yes?” She brought a hand to Alison's cheek, holding her attention. “Don't think you can have both. Neither will wait for you forever.”

 

Alison nodded, looking down at her hands. “You're right.” Then, a little louder, a little more fortified. “You're right. I have to make a decision.”

 

“Yes, but a sober one.” Delphine rose, walking over to her linen closet. “You may sleep here tonight, I will make up the couch for you.”

 

By the time she returned, Alison was already passed out, mumbling in her sleep. Delphine dropped the pillow onto the armrest, then slowly lowered Alison onto it and covered her with the blanket. “Bon courage, mon amie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Soccercop? Yeah. I did that. My secret is that I sometimes love Alison as much as Cosima (I feel this way about Helena, too), which is A LOT. And it was so hard to write her so bitchy this entire time, just waiting to drop this bomb on y'all. Anyway, thanks for the comments. I'm gonna respond to you all when I have a little more time. I hope you enjoy reading, let me know what you think!


	14. Like Knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst train just rolled into the station. You've been warned.

Her phone vibrated again in the pocket of her jeans, and Cosima resigned herself to looking at it. She tugged it out with minimal hip maneuvering, holding it beneath the table so she wouldn't distract the other people sitting around her. One missed call and one text message.

 

_Cosima, please._

 

The texts had gotten shorter and shorter, the first few of them asserting the sort of confidence  and false humility that comes from one expecting simple forgiveness,  like a Catholic at confession . They'd said things like  _let me explain_ and  _I miss you._ And now, it was just these two words, this death rattle of a plea. At first, Cosima hadn't intended on ignoring the texts. She'd gotten one, feeling its presence dig in and sting, and she'd put it away for tomorrow—when she could give a response that wasn't reflexive, wasn't aimed to harm. She could respond later, yes, and give it thought. She could sort through this. But  t hen the next day came, and she still didn't know what to say. Another text message came through, somewhat frantic in its tone, a hint of begging hidden in the text. It felt  _good_ to have power in this situation, to feel in control of it. To hold Delphine's heart the way she'd been holding Cosima's. With the ability to toss it aside, to give it away, to hold it close.

 

Maybe all the power went to her head, but when the texts kept coming and she had some time to discuss the situation with Sarah and Felix,  the anger had begun to take over. As the memory of Delphine's smile—of her kiss—faded, the pain had overtaken her and all that was left was rage. She'd been used, been cast aside when it wasn't convenient for her to be around. S he decided Delphine needed to do something more to prove herself. Fixing this would take more than 'I'm sorry,' more than rushed kisses in cars like teenagers.  After all, everyone in her life assured her Delphine was destruction and heartbreak. Make her prove she's not. Actions speak louder than words, she'd always believed that.

 

“Cos.” A hand nudged at her upper arm. “Cosima.”

 

She shot her head up, glancing around the small table at Felix, Sarah, and Helena in turn—all of them watching her expectantly—before responding. “Yeah?”

 

“Helena asked you a question.”

 

“Oh. Sorry.” She slipped her phone back into her pocket. “What did you say, Helena?”

 

“How is your schooling, druh?” Helena repeated, eyes perpetually red-rimmed and sunken, as though she hadn't slept since that day at the hospital.

 

“Oh. It's going well. The final showcase is soon.” She shrugged. “Really not very exciting.” She leaned forward, bracing her forearms against the table. “What about you? Are you liking it here? Are they nice to you?”

 

Helena's gaze dropped to the table, and she traced a gash in the formica with her index finger. “I do not like it, the man in the suit does not believe me.”

 

“The man in the suit?” Sarah was leaning forward now, too, brows furrowing, anger bubbling below the surface. “Who's that, Helena?”

 

She glanced around, finding a man in a brown suit across the room and raising a finger to him. “He asks many questions, writes down words. Scribble scribble scribble.” She pantomimed writing on a notepad. “He calls me liar.”

 

“Psychiatrist.” Cosima muttered to Sarah, who just nodded.

 

“I'll talk to him, see what I can do. Okay, meathead?”

 

Helena locked Sarah in an intense gaze, moving slightly closer. “Do not call me this. My head is not meat.”

 

“She's got a point, you know.” Felix, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, piped up. “Meat's nowhere near sugary enough to be what her head's made of.”

 

Sarah just rolled her eyes. “You wanna show us your room?”

 

Helena grinned and nodded vigorously, all of them standing and wandering off down the hall.

 

“There's something so creepy about this place.” Felix leaned over to Cosima, speaking lowly so Sarah and Helena, walking a few paces ahead of them, wouldn't hear. “Like a hospital meets a bloody prison.”

 

Cosima nodded. “Yeah, it's super institutional. Like, what even is that gray-blue on the walls? And the tile?”

 

“Can you imagine winding up in a place like this?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn't last a day, and not because of the withdrawals.”

 

“It would def be weird.” She hesitated, watching Helena swing open the door with pride, still paying most of her attention to her sister at the expense of the other two. They'd all gotten very close, when Helena had found Sarah and practically moved in with them into where they were all squatting in Rimbaud at the time, but her twin sister was still the apple of her eye, her connection to some mythic origin of What Could Have Been. And Sarah, though she was more grounded than Helena, found herself caught up in the same eerie attachment. Helena had been so different then, when they were living at Rimbaud. A little eccentric but mostly a normal young woman. Then... “I know her drug problem's out of control, but I just can't imagine her benefiting from this. I mean, what is Helena gonna get out of group therapy? She's not like any of these people.”

 

Felix let a long breath out through his nose, leaning his weight onto one hip. “I don't know, honestly. I can't imagine what _could_ help her at this point.”

 

“Are you coming in or not?” Sarah's head popped out of the doorway, one eyebrow raised in a way that suggested she needed some backup.

 

They didn't respond, just simultaneously lurched forward and into Helena's room.

 

The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful. They sat in Helena's room, they talked. She didn't like it there, that much was obvious, but she'd gotten better about loudly insulting the staff. Sarah reminded her they couldn't keep her there, but that it was a good idea for her to get clean and stay clean. Helena, ever the dutiful sister, agreed to stay. At least for another week, when they could discuss it again. It was unlike Helena to cry, but both Felix and Cosima had noticed the tears sliding silently down her cheeks as she hugged Sarah goodbye, trying to bury them in her leather jacket.

 

They got as far as the car before Sarah spoke, teeth clenched together tightly, one hand resting on the top of the battered truck's open door. “She's a lost cause, isn't she?” There was a beat when no one spoke. “Christ. What am I supposed to do? I already have a kid, I can't take on another one.”

 

“We're here for you, Sarah.” It was all Cosima could think to say, despite the fact that she knew neither Felix nor herself could take the burden of Kira or Helena from her shoulders. They were family, too uniquely positioned to be anyone's problem but Sarah's.

 

“I know.” Her eyes were glistening, as she glanced between the two of them, and she swallowed, hurling her eyes quickly up at the sky. “Looks like it might rain.”

 

_Yeah. That's why you're looking up._

 

“So, what are you waiting for? Get your little arses in the car.” Felix sassed, sliding into the backseat.

 

During the drive, Sarah's hand rested on the middle console, clenching and unclenching arhythmically, in time only with the beat of thoughts in her head. Cosima reached across and settled a hand over it, offering a small smile when Sarah glanced up at her. The hand on the console flipped over, letting Cosima's fingers slip in between her own and squeeze a slight pressure into her palm.

 

* * *

 

 

“You're awake.” Delphine did her best to smile, feeling it wind tight in her cheeks. “Would you like some coffee? Maybe a glass of water?”

 

Alison nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She dropped into a seat at the kitchen table, holding her head in her hands. “We didn't—last night, I don't remember, but--” She trailed off, glancing at Delphine through the space between her fingers.

 

Delphine laughed, her tight smile becoming instantaneously genuine. “Non, we did not. We talked, you broke one of my picture frames, and then you fell asleep.” She placed buttered toast and jam, a glass of water, and a cup of coffee in front of Alison, returning a second later with her own breakfast.

 

“Oh, thank all that is holy.” Alison brought the glass of water to her lips, freezing suddenly. “Not that I wouldn't want to if I—I mean, I don't want to, but it's not anything against you.” She pushed the toast off to the side so that she could drop her head into her folded arms on the table. “Forget it.”

 

Delphine reached a hand out tentatively, resting it on her upper back, rubbing in tight circles, that gradually swept outward as she felt the body beneath her relax. “It's okay, Alison. I understand what you are trying to say. I am also glad we did not have sex last night.”

 

Alison nodded against her arms, but made no move to lift her head.

 

“If I may, can I ask what you're going to do about your situation?”

 

She felt Alison stiffen under her hand, head raising slightly to look at her. “What did I tell you last night?”

 

“You told me a lot about... Beth?” She accentuated the name, raising her eyebrows as she did, watching carefully for a reaction.

 

Alison straightened further, taking a second to spread jam across her toast and return her normal poise to her face. “I don't know what I'm going to do.” She admitted finally, setting the uneaten toast back down on her plate. “I don't know what the right thing is. I know what my mother would say is the right thing, and what my friends would say. But... maybe—maybe that's not what I think the right thing is.”

 

Delphine nodded, watching her with pliant eyes, urging her on.

 

“Not that I don't care about Donnie, because I do. I really don't want to hurt him. Things with him just aren't as... electric as they are with Beth. Does that make sense?”

 

Delphine nodded again, leaning forward on her elbows. “I think that when you're with someone for long enough, you begin to build this future with them in your mind. Whether it's conscious or not, it's happening. Day by day, your brain is saying 'I can see myself buying a house with this person, having a child with them.' And it's more than just the plans the two of you make together, though that's certainly a part of it. It's also having expectations for your own future you've been forming since you were young, and beginning to see this other person fitting into that vision.

 

So, you realize at some point that what you're asking yourself to do is not let go of a person or a history because that—while certainly difficult—is something I think we've all done before with friendships that were unhealthy or work relationships, perhaps. What you're really letting go of is a microcosm of tiny plans, little moments where you cemented yourself to this other person for life, often without even realizing it. You're letting go of the future you had planned, and by consequence, you're letting go of your sense of control over that future. Which is a scary thought.”

 

“Wow.” Alison closed her mouth, averting her eyes back down to the table. “I didn't realize you were so thoughtful.”

 

“Yes. Well, this particular topic is one I've been mulling for quite some time.” She admitted, biting into her toast.

 

“I think you're right.” Alison announced suddenly, very firmly, glancing up to connect her eyes with Delphine's. “I'm holding on to a—a ghost of a relationship. A mirage. It's not the todays with him I want, it's the tomorrows, but I'm not going to be any more in love with him tomorrow.” She smiled, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

 

“It's no problem. I'm simply happy I may be able to help you avoid making the mistakes I did.”

 

“So, no word from Cosima, then?” Alison's hand reached out tentatively, settling on Delphine's elbow.

 

“No.” She breathed, shaking her head slightly. “I have been trying, but... she will not answer my texts or my calls.”

 

“I'm sorry.” She squeezed the arm still resting casually beneath her hand. “Maybe she just needs a little time?”

 

Delphine forced herself to smile. “Yes. Maybe.”

 

The two spent the day together, finding that they actually had quite a bit in common. It was strange, really, to have Alison show up after ending things with Donnie, wanting to talk and asking how to approach things with Beth. It was odd, to have someone who listened to her side of events with Cosima without judgment, who was not pro-Paul or pro-Cosima. It was a strange feeling but a nice one to have someone be pro-Delphine.

 

They walked through the street festival in their small group, Aynsley, Chad, Alison, and Delphine. The group was mostly Alison's friends from school, but Delphine was grateful for the company. Being with other people helped her feel more solid, more grounded, more like she belonged in this throng of artists and performers and tourists, looking at the arts and crafts of street vendors, and eating various fried foods from questionable-looking stands.

 

Alison grabbed her suddenly by the elbow, stopping her. “Oh, my gosh. There she is.” She whispered harshly, reaching up instinctively to pat down her hair. “How do I look?” She glanced up at Delphine, jumpy and hovering, waiting for the okay so that she could go talk to Beth.

 

Delphine had followed her gaze to the small group sitting on the grass in the park, Sarah and Cal together as he strummed on his guitar and sang to her, Felix watching Beth and Art dance to music coming from a laptop plugged into a large speaker set, and Cosima on the edge of a fountain, laptop on her knees, with Scott and someone Delphine had never seen before, laughing and leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

Finally, she turned back to Alison's wide eyes, which seemed to twitch impossibly larger in her impatience. “You look great.” She assured, offering as much of a smile as she could manage, despite the chill that started in her sternum and radiated out at seeing Cosima. At seeing Cosima cuddled up with someone else.

 

“Are you sure?” Alison was patting down her clothes now, straightening the hems of her shirt and her skirt.

 

“Yes, I'm sure.”

 

“Okay. Come on.” Alison grabbed Delphine's hand, tugging her toward the park.

 

“Oh. No. I couldn't.” Delphine insisted, keeping her feet rooted tightly to the spot.

 

Alison whirled around, mouth gaping open. “You have to come, though! Please.”

 

Delphine waved a hand. “No, Cosima would not want me there.”

 

“Well, they're my friends, too, and _I_ want you there. Besides, Aynsley and Chad will be there.” She tugged on her hand again. “Come on.”

 

Delphine could put up a fight. She could continue to struggle against Alison, continue to insist. But if she'd learned anything from spending time with her the last few days, it was that Alison was far more stubborn than she seemed, and it would take considerably less time and energy to simply do as she asked than it would to argue endlessly with her about it. So she moved forward, unsteadily, following her friends, lagging a shy pace behind.

 

“Hey!” Beth was the first to notice them coming, and she turned from where she'd been watching Art so she could hug Alison.

 

“Hi, Beth.” Delphine noticed the faint color in Alison's cheeks as she greeted Beth, the way she made eye contact yet still ducked her head just a little. It was nice, somehow, to see the two dance around one another, trade unsure smiles and eye contact that breathed, had a life all its own. It was nice to think that Alison could have what Delphine had with Cosima—vitality that gaped, electric and manic, that pulled at the rubber band of time until it had to snap. She could have someone who made every second mean something. “These are my friends. Delphine, Aynsley, and Chad.”

 

Beth smiled, shaking everyone's hands, eyes lingering on Delphine for just a beat longer, smile fading softly into creased lines as she glanced between her and Cosima, still distracted by the computer and her friends, then moving onto the rest of them.

 

Chad grinned, smacking Beth's ass. “You look good out there, kid.”

 

“What the fuck!” Suddenly, Beth sent Chad stumbling back a foot with a hard shove.

 

“Hey! What was that for?”

 

“You smacked my ass, you douchebag!” She took a step forward, staying in his face, not backing down and wanting him to know.

 

“Look, it was just a joke.” He was still grinning, the sort of smile that comes when you're used to getting your way. “You can't take it, that's fine. But I'm not getting roped into hitting a girl.”

 

“I told you nobody thinks that's funny, Chad.” Aynsley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

Beth cocked her elbow back, ready to strike, and Delphine and Alison jumped forward simultaneously, Alison grabbing Beth by the bicep and Delphine stepping in between them, facing Chad.

 

“Apologize.” She snapped, settling into the persona her father had helped her develop, for dealing with people he considered less important than them. She hated using it, had always despised the way he'd treated other people, but found it felt more natural than she'd ever admit.

 

“For what?” He scoffed. “She's the one that hit me.”

 

“Chad, it was inappropriate, and you know it. Now apologize.” There must have been something in her that reminded him of his mother, or maybe an aunt or teacher, someone who'd inspired the sort of crushing shame one feels as a child when one doesn't live up to expectations, because he raised his hands, palms out.

 

“Okay, okay. Relax. I'm sorry.”

 

The rest of the group, attracted by the commotion, came tearing into the small crowd that had begun to form.

 

“What the hell did you do?” Cosima snapped, but it wasn't until her hand grabbed Delphine's elbow, dragging her so she'd turn and face her, that Delphine realized the question was directed at _her._

 

“I—Nothing, Cosima.”

 

“Bullshit.” Cosima snapped back, something stone and harsh about her, when usually she was liquid and light.

 

“She didn't do anything.” Beth stepped forward, glancing between the two of them. “It was that asshole, she was just trying to help, Cos.”

 

“What are you even doing here?” Beth's intervention didn't stop her, didn't even divert her gaze from Delphine's. “Nobody wants you here.”

 

“I do.” Alison was by her side now, putting her arm around Delphine's waist. “She's my friend.”

 

“Since when?” Cosima's nostrils were flaring, and she flickered her eyes over to Alison's. “What, did you start a cheating wives' club or something? Experimenting straight girls anonymous?”

 

“Hey, back off.” Beth stepped forward, grabbing Cosima's arm.

 

She tugged it away harshly. “Don't. Touch me.” Her voice was low, warning, a nip or growl from a rabid dog.

 

“Okay, fine. Just—look, you're being a little cruel, Cosima.”

 

“I'm being cruel?” She snorted, turning her attention back to Delphine. “Am I the one who kissed Delphine, then told her it was out of pity? Am I the one who showed up time and time again, to kiss her and tell her how much I want and care about her, just to go back to my stupid, boring straight boyfriend? Am I the one who neglected to tell her that I was fucking some creepy old capitalist dickwad? I don't think so, Beth. She used me, played with my emotions, led me on, just to dump me when it wasn't easy anymore, when I stood up to her. She pretended to care about me, but clearly--” By now, tears were poised on the wells of her eyelids, and she had to look up, to the side, flare her nostrils, to try to keep them from falling. “Clearly she didn't ever give a shit about me. So, no. I don't think I'm the one being cruel here.” She turned, wiping at her eyes as she began to move on trembling legs back to the where she'd been sitting earlier.

 

“No. No, Cosima. Wait.” Delphine grabbed her wrist, losing the grip instantly when Cosima spun around, holding her hands up, eyes an icy, liquid burn.

 

“Don't.”

 

Delphine dropped her hand back to her side. “Just, let me tell you one thing.” She was leaned forward slightly, resisting the urge to touch her, to move closer so she could read Cosima's eyes more clearly. “You can call me whatever names you want, I deserve it. But don't ever say that I didn't care about you. I made many mistakes, but the worst of them was caring about you more than I should have.”

 

Cosima scoffed and rolled her eyes to the side, grinding her jaw tight together, making the muscles at the base twitch and pulse.

 

“I couldn't let you go, even though I had someone I cared for, even though I knew it would complicate everything for me, I was drawn to you. I didn't want to fall for you, Cosima, but I did. I have. So completely.” She breathed. “Please, if you don't believe anything else I've said, even if you never want to see me again, know that.”

 

Cosima glanced back at her, at her eyes, grown glassy and large, at her lip tucked between her teeth, at the flared nostrils and the palms that sat up, facing her, as though they were waiting for hers. She looked at these things, and felt the power rise back up, felt like a hunter who had fallen a deer but not killed it, and now held the rifle to its temple, waiting to finish it. _She's_ _hurt_ _ing_ _. Good._

 

“Yeah. You just don't care enough about me to stop fucking your way to the top. Stop groveling, you spend enough time on your knees with Leekie.”

 

Delphine exhaled, glancing down at her hands, feeling surprisingly calm despite the storm brewing in the depths of her chest. She smiled, one that reached only the very corners of her lips and convinced no one. “Okay.” She turned, not saying anything more, and disappeared into the crowd in a few long strides.

 

“What the flip was that, Cosima?” Alison turned on her, waving her left hand in the air, letting the other rest on her hip. “She doesn't deserve to be publicly shamed. I'm sorry she hurt you, but you're acting like a—a—a child!” She turned, and stormed off, Beth jogging off behind her.

 

And somewhere, where the part of her that loved, that was the gentle, slow-to-anger and ready to forgive Cosima resided, pounding perhaps in the left atrium, bustling around with the oxygenated blood ready to bring life to her body; that part sighed with a maternal displeasure.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you think I was too harsh on Delphine today?” Cosima was looking out the window of her apartment, glass of wine untouched in her hand. Delphine's utter surrender paired with Alison's ire had unsettled her usual self-righteousness.

 

Sarah glanced up from where she was editing photos on her computer—her side business as a band photographer was picking up fast. “I don't know, Cos. What do you think?”

 

“I think it felt fucking great to say those things.” She began, looking down into her wine, the deep burgundy somehow calming her nerves. “But when I think of her face after, when she walked away... How hurt she looked.” She turned to face Sarah completely. “I liked it in the moment, but now...”

  
Sarah waited a second, to see if she'd finish what she was saying. Speechlessness was not something Sarah was familiar with when it came to Cosima. “You gonna finish one of those sentences?”

 

Cosima shut her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “I don't know what to say.”

 

“I think you're hurt, and you lashed out so that she'd hurt, too.” Sarah stood, walking over to wrap her arms around Cosima's waist and rest her head on her shoulder. “But I also know you care about her. So, while hurting her was fun for a minute, now you just feel like an asshole.”

 

“Thanks for the analysis, Sigmund. But that's not really all that helpful.”

 

Sarah shrugged, pulling away from her. “What you do next is sorta up to you. I can't tell you what to do or how to feel.”

 

“She said she fell for me.” She brought her free hand to her temple, rubbing at it slowly. “But how is that possible? I mean, she has two other lovers she's still with. She says all these things, but she doesn't mean them. It's not fair.”

 

“Alison says she and Paul broke it off.” Sarah had settled back on the couch, and patted the cushion next to her.

 

Cosima followed, dropping down and placing the wine glass on the coffee table. “What?”

 

“Yeah, apparently she broke up with Paul right after Leekie left town.”

 

“Christ.” Cosima rubbed at her forehead. “I don't know, Sarah. Why isn't this easier?”

 

Sarah snorted. “You still expect things to be easy? After all these years?”

 

She dropped back, deep into the fluffy cushions. “No, I guess not.”

 

* * *

 

“Knock knock.” Cosima stepped through the door, tilting her head to try to catch Siobhan's attention.

 

“Cosima.” Mrs. S glanced up from the papers in her hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“I, uh,” she stepped further into the room, resting her hands on the back of the chair across the desk from Siobhan, “was wondering if you had a minute to talk.”

 

“Actually, I'm quite busy at the moment, it's the end of the school year.” She responded, warm smile still on her face.

 

“Please, Mrs. S.”

 

Siobhan settled the papers onto her desk and took off her reading glasses, motioning to the chair which Cosima settled on the edge of, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “What would you like to talk about?”

 

“Delphine.” Cosima caught Mrs. S's glance, holding it. “I need to know why you told me to stay away from her.”

 

She sighed, leaning back into the plush leather chair and folding her hands in her lap. “I just don't want to see you hurt, love.”

 

“Well, I am. I am hurt.” Cosima's voice was flat and harsh, and she moved her hands from her lap to the desk. “And I don't know what to do now. Please, Mrs. S.”

 

Siobhan watched this woman, who had become like a daughter to her. They all had become like her children, Sarah and Felix and Cosima, and they all needed protection in their own ways. Sarah needed protection from herself, from her tendency to shove people away as violently as she could, to keep herself at a distance even when it caused her undue pain. She needed help letting people in, letting people love her for who she was. Felix needed to be protected from Sarah, most of the time, but also from his desire to help. He was an enabler, a pushover for those he cared about. He never could tell who was worth his time and effort and who wasn't. He didn't value himself enough as a person, didn't value his usefulness beyond how attractive or fun or witty he was.

 

And then there was Cosima. Cosima, who managed to remain naïve after years of suffering and trickery, who still trusted too quickly and too easily, who still fell for a pretty smile and intelligent conversation. She forgave too easily, she followed her heart too readily. She loved brashly, not willing to see the bad things. Paired with a somewhat explosive, cutting temper and possibly a touch too much insight and intellect, her romantic entanglements often ended in hours of tears on the couch, endless screaming matches, bottles of wine and joints.

 

But, she'd come for advice and that was something, right? A step in the right direction, perhaps?

 

“Like I said, Cosima. I've known Delphine since she was a little girl. But she's acted like an adult for as long as I can remember. She knows how to play the game, and she does it.”

 

“Alison said she broke up with Paul, though.” Cosima pushed herself closer to the edge of the chair, eyes bright with hope and wariness. “I mean, why would she do that if she didn't care?”

 

“I never said she doesn't care about you, chicken.” Siobhan leaned forward as well, placing a hand on the back of Cosima's. “I just said she's highly driven. I suggest you don't stand in her way, because I've never seen her take her foot off the gas pedal for anyone before.”

 

Cosima licked her lips, glancing down at the hand atop her own. “She's sleeping with Leekie.”

 

“You know about that, do you?” Mrs. S's gaze was scrutinizing again, taking in every detail of Cosima's body language, trying to gauge the direction this conversation would take.

 

“I found out the day of the lecture.” Cosima didn't usually mumble, preferring to speak only when she could put great power and intention behind her words, but these came out in a tangled mess. “It's what we were talking about when you and Kira showed up.”

 

“Yes. Well,” she stroked the back of Cosima's hand with her thumb, “that's a part of what I was trying to warn you about.”

 

“The thing is, I don't know if it's about power or pleasure.” She shook her head. “I don't know which one would be worse. And that makes me feel like such a hypocrite, because everyone I know has had sex for reasons other than love before. I mean, I'm certainly not innocent.”

 

“If it bothers you, it bothers you.” Siobhan responded. “If you're jealous now, I don't see why that would go away.”

 

“You don't think she'd stop if I asked her to?”

 

Mrs. S retracted her hand, placing it back on the arm rest, smiling with restrained pity. “No, love, I don't. They've been doing this for a decade, I don't see why they'd stop now.”

 

“A decade?” Cosima's brow twisted, and nostrils flared. “But she can't be that much older than me. She's, like, what? Twenty-eight?”

 

“Sounds about right.” Siobhan confirmed, nodding slowly.

 

“He started sleeping with her when she was eighteen?” Cosima's mind felt crowded suddenly, a thousand thoughts screaming through her brain with such deafening noise she couldn't make out any of them in detail.

 

“When she went to America for her undergraduate degree, yes.”

 

“That's disgusting.” She snapped suddenly. “He was in his fifties and sleeping with an eighteen year old? How did he get away with that?”

 

“Like it or not, that's the way of the world, Cosima.”

 

She nodded slowly, standing and grabbing her bag off the floor where she'd dropped it. “Thanks, S.” She stumbled slightly, tripping up on the chair leg and barely noticing as she droned out the door.

 

“Anytime, love.”

 


	15. Invisible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Not much to say except you all are the sweetest and best and thank you for hanging on through this ride with me. I think it's probably gonna come to an end in the next few chapters or so. As much as I love drawing things out, endings are inevitable. I've been thinking about continuing it to tie up some loose ends, but sometimes life happens and loose ends don't get tied at all. We'll see. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The knocking on the door was insistent; demanding, even. Despite several minutes of Delphine attempting to hide in her couch, it persisted without break. Finally, she gave in and walked over, checking the peephole before swinging the door open.

   
“Alison.”

 

Alison's smile brightened. “There you are. I was starting to think you weren't going to let me in.” She pushed past Delphine, Beth trailing behind her, raising her eyes from the floor only to nod a sheepish smile at her as she went.

 

“I wasn't planning on it, but you made yourself fairly difficult to ignore.” Delphine admitted, pushing the door shut as she turned. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I brought wine.” Alison smiled, gesturing to the three bottles lined neatly on the coffee table. “This is what Felix does whenever I'm feeling...” Her spine straightened impossibly, a vein in her neck twitching. “Unwell.”

 

“I don't need wine, Alison, I'm fine.” She moved farther into the room, entering the living room as Alison left it, headed into the kitchen.

 

“Nonsense. You had a rough day. It's good to be reminded that people care about you.” She glanced around the kitchen, finally landing on Delphine across the room. “Where's your corkscrew?”

 

“There is a wine key in the drawer next to the refrigerator.” It wasn't worth the fight, she figured, even if that line of thinking had gotten her into more trouble than she'd care to remember at the moment. She dropped onto the couch with a small huff, and Beth perched on its arm.

  

“Would you like to use glasses, or is this a straight-out-of-the-bottle kind of night?” Alison's voice chirped, chipper as ever.

 

She ran a hand over her face, sinking further into the sofa. “Out of the bottle is fine.”

 

By the time her hand fell and she reopened her eyes, Alison was already back, burying the metal into the cork, pulling it out with a satisfying pop. “There's no shame in that. When Donnie and I broke up the first time, I didn't use glasses for two weeks.” She handed the bottle over to Delphine, moving onto the other two and distributing one to Beth, as well.

 

Alison took the open spot next to Delphine on the couch, and Beth stood to look around the apartment, taking in the art, skimming over the books on her shelves.

 

“ _The Neuroscience of Madness._ ” She read, wine bottle tucked between her bicep and ribcage as she gingerly turned the book over. “You get this because of Cos?”

 

“No.” She shook her head, still staring down at the bottle in front of her. “I took an interest in neurobiology as a teenager.”

 

“Hmm. Cool.” Beth pushed the book back into the open spot it had left on the shelf.

 

Alison rolled her eyes. “You really are terrible at this, aren't you, Elizabeth?”

 

A smile spread from one of Beth's ears to the other. “I told you I was.”

 

“I just didn't think it was _possible_ , to be so bad.”

 

“It's fine.” Delphine interjected, smiling despite herself. “Totally fine.”

 

“Hey, what are you listening to?” Beth had moved closer to her laptop, pressing keys to get it to wake up.

 

“It's French.” She said, shrugging. As though that would answer any and all follow up questions before they were posed.

 

“It's sad.” Beth shot back, glancing over her shoulder. “You don't need to speak French to know that slow violins and quivering female vocalists mean breakup music.”

 

Delphine ran a hand through her hair. “They're one of my favorite bands. I listen to them all the time.”

 

“Yes, but you're sad now.” Alison was smiling at her. “Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?”

 

She exhaled through her nose, feeling the air rush, her nostrils flare, giving her a flash of something familiar, something comforting. She stood, fishing a cigarette from her purse and perching on a chair near the window, leaning out to light it.

 

“She was right.” She leaned back in the chair, hand still out the window. “What else is there to talk about it?”  
  


“She was trying to hurt you.” Beth was facing her now, having given up on the password-protected laptop. “I know Cosima pretty well, and she was just blowing off steam. She's in deep with you." 

 

Delphine snorted, glancing out the window. “Yes, I know the feeling.”

 

“Maybe you should try to talk to her?” Alison asked, having scooted down the sofa to be closer to Delphine.

 

“And say what? She doesn't want to hear anything from me.”

 

“You could say you care about her.” Alison was leaning on the armrest, head propped in a hand. “I mean, you do don't you?”

 

“Of course I do. I—I'm in love with her.” She flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, watching it flutter like snow onto the people passing by below. “I haven't known her very long, but I have no doubts. With Paul, I loved him very much. But it was more about my father, about what I thought I wanted for my future than anything. It's so different with Cosima, I want her all the time. And I know what you are thinking. It's not lust.” She glanced back at the two faces watching her carefully. “As much as I want to sleep with her, I would give up any chance of that just to listen to her speak, to watch her paint, to be near her for as long as she'd let me.” She leaned back out the window, taking another drag off the cigarette.

  

Alison and Beth glanced at one another, sharing a wince, a slight twitch of the corner of the mouth.

 

“Tell her that.” Alison was firm now, as Delphine's head returned through the window.

 

“She feels the same way.” Beth confirmed. “Trust me, I've had to listen to it non-stop.”

 

Delphine looked down at the wine bottle in her hand, half-drained despite only being open for ten minutes, maximum. She began to feel the slight hum in her skin that told her she was drunk, and took a sip anyway. She took another drag off the cigarette, exhaling it through her nose, feeling the burn she'd craved. It would be stupid, and self-destructive to go to Cosima now, to be told off again. No, there was no recovering from this. She'd pushed too hard. She shook her head.

 

“No. I can't.” She squashed the embers of the cigarette on the sill, leaving it to sit there until she cleaned it tomorrow or it fell to the street. “I don't want to talk about this anymore, would you like to watch a movie?”

 

The night came and went without much fanfare. They didn't speak of Cosima anymore, though Alison certainly tried, and watched the movie, tumbling easily into drunken comraderie, yelling at the screen together (well, Beth and Delphine yelled at the screen and Alison kept pausing it with a terse _Are you finished? I'm trying to watch this_ ). Delphine went to sleep early, piling blankets and pillows by the couch for her friends to arrange how they saw fit.

 

“What are you doing?” Beth rubbed the blear from her eyes, squinting to make out Alison's silhouette in the darkness, bent over the coffee table.

 

“I couldn't sleep.” Alison explained in a hushed whisper, followed by the sound of rustling paper.

 

“So you decided to snoop?” She sat up, scooting to the edge of the couch to peer over Alison's shoulder to the notebook on the coffee table. “What is that?”

 

“Poetry. Well, I think it is.” Alison responded, flipping another page. “Most of it's in French, except one.” She handed the notebook and cell phone she'd been using as a flashlight over to Beth, who took it and read through it.

 

“Whoa. You think it's about Cosima?”

 

“Of course it's about Cosima.” She snapped back. Beth knew she was rolling her eyes despite not being able to distinguish them in the darkness.

 

“It's good.”

 

“Cosima needs to see it.”

 

“No, Alison.” Beth slid off the couch to settle next to Alison on the floor and setting the notebook and cell phone on the table. “Don't meddle.”

 

“They're both too stubborn for their own good. If they won't figure it out for themselves, I will.”

 

And that was that.

* * *

 

 

“Okay. Here we go. Henrik Johanssen. Impressive credentials, actually.” Cosima clicked through the pages on her laptop, scanning the information breezily, occasionally typing something. Sarah watched her, jittery restlessness moving her from one side of the room to the other. “Whoa. This is interesting.” Cosima leaned forward, too close to her screen. “In 2009, he was sued by a former client for sexual harassment, and then he just sort of... disappears.” She leaned back, glancing up at Sarah who had frozen in mid-step, watching her.

 

“Disappears?”

 

“Yeah. He was writing books about spirituality and psychotherapy for a while, but I'm guessing he decided to keep a low profile after the case. Go and work for the rehab facility.”

 

“I don't like it.” Sarah swiped the air, resuming her pacing. “I'm calling her tomorrow, getting her out of there.”

 

“Where's she gonna go, Sarah? To live with you and Cal?” Cosima's eyebrow was quirked as her eyes trailed Sarah back and forth. “Are you gonna watch her 24/7?”

 

“No.” Sarah ran a hand through her hair, pausing to jab the wall with an open palm. “Shit!”

 

“Hey, hey.” Cosima rose halfway from the chair, holding a hand out. “Watch the goods, all right? I'd like to get my deposit back.”

 

“Sorry.” She dropped onto a seat next to Cosima, holding her head between her hands. “I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do. I don't trust that guy.”

 

“Yeah. No. Me, either, Sarah.” Cosima settled back down, rubbing mandalas onto Sarah's back.

 

“The exhibition's this weekend.” She said, quietly, with resignation. “I'll bring her home the next week.”

 

“Sarah...”  
  


“I don't have a choice, Cos. All right? It's not like this is what I want to do with my bloody life.” She glanced up, hands still lingering by the sides of her head.

 

“Yeah. I know. I'll help you as much as I can, okay? I said I was here for you, and I meant it.”

 

Sarah nodded. “I'm here for you, too.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So why haven't we talked about it since last weekend?”

 

Cosima glanced down at the desk, tracing old mars in the wood with her thumb. “I don't know what I would say. She hurt me. I yelled at her. It's over.”

 

“There's no way this ends that cleanly.”

  
Cosima snorted. “This is what you consider clean?”

 

“It ended only as messily as it started.” Sarah shot back, crossing her hands behind her head and leaning into them.

 

“Yeah. I guess that's true.” She took in a deep breath, and immediately let it rush back out, leaving an unsatisfied ache in her chest. “S told me she started sleeping with Leekie when she was eighteen. What am I supposed to make of that?”

 

Sarah shrugged, jutting her jaw off to one side. “She and Fee need to start a geezer fetish support group?”

 

“Sarah.” Cosima rolled her eyes and leaned forward on her elbows.

 

“Okay, okay.” Sarah leaned on the desk, as well, putting them shoulder to shoulder. “Either it means she's got a lifelong commitment to long-term strategy, or she was a young kid charmed by an older man. Happens all the time.”

 

“S says she's ruthless, that she'll step on anyone to get her way.” She shook her head. “I just don't see that in her. Like, she made me feel like shit but she's not Duncan, you know?”

 

“Don't really know her, but I doubt anyone can even come near how cold pro bitch is.”

  

“Do I talk to her?” Cosima turned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Do I apologize?”

 

“Dunno, Cos.” Sarah shrugged. “Maybe you should just stay away from her, yeah? Til you figure out what you want?”

 

“I don't know if I can. It's so stupid, but I miss her.”

 

Sarah nodded, slowly, holding Cosima's eyes. “Yeah, that is stupid.”

 

Cosima slapped the side of her head, making both of them laugh.

  
“Oi! What the hell!”

 

“You had it coming!”

 

Sarah jumped up, followed by Cosima who darted out from behind the desk, trying to find refuge on the other side. Sarah tried to clamber over it, arms already reaching. Her foot caught on the edge and sent her flat on her stomach on the heavy wood.

 

“Hey! Watch the laptop!” 

* * *

 

It couldn't be her. She wouldn't be here. Delphine Cormier is too smart to show up at the final exhibition where two of her exes and all of their friends were showing their work. But no, that was her hair, that was her style, that was her posture. She glanced over, eyes connecting with Cosima's, offering a truce of a smile. And Cosima, despite herself, found she was returning it, shaky and unsure as it was.

 

“Thanks for inviting me, Cos.” Billie tugged on her arm, regaining her attention. “This is killer.”

 

“Hey. Yeah. No problem. I just can't believe it's finally happening, you know?” She glanced back up to where Delphine was standing, head cocked as she scrutinized Paul's paintings.

 

She wanted to feel the burning energy that can only come from rage, the sort of restlessness in the limbs that spurs one to rash, impulsive action but instead, she found herself studying her softness—soft despite being all sharp, hard skeleton covered by a blanket of curls. Her anger had burned off and left her bare, brushing charred skin to reveal untouched organs, still functioning perfectly, heart still beating for Delphine.

 

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom, be right back.” Billie slipped away with flirtation written on her lips, and Cosima reciprocated as well as she could until she disappeared into the crowd.

 

It was too much, the symmetry of the moment, on either side of everything they had been. They could talk, in front of Paul's paintings, discuss what they were, what they wanted to be. They could flirt, they could gravitate toward one another, but still stubbornly pull apart at the end of the day. Perhaps that particular hurt had become so familiar she had grown accustomed to it. Whatever the reason, she walked over, lingering quietly next to Delphine, unsure of what exactly it was she'd wanted to say.

 

“You were right.” Delphine spoke first, pointing with a hand occupied by a wine glass at the painting in front of them. “His paintings lack depth.”

 

“Yeah. The women he paints,” Cosima swallowed, remembering the painting of Delphine, the one that looked like her but failed to capture any of what she was. “They're reminiscent of odalisques, aren't they?”

 

Delphine nodded, turning her head slightly to catch view of Cosima from the corner of her eye. “That's a part of my dissertation, you know.”

 

“What is?” Cosima turned her head, eyes sticking on the painting before finally tearing away to look at Delphine.

 

“The nude as modern-day odalisque. The odalisque being the stand-in for the ultimate imperial male fantasy.” Delphine dipped her head down, shoulders unintentionally rising, and tacked on, “among other things, of course.”

 

“Oh? What, um, what texts are you using?” Cosima turned fully to face her, brightening as though the conversation had sparked something alive in her that refused to remain inside her.

 

“Said, of course. Some Foucault, Neshat, Fanon--”

 

“Shit, you've read Frantz Fanon?” Cosima's head tilted, a gentle smile brushing her cheeks.

 

“Yes. After all, his works are in my mother tongue.” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, dragging it out between her teeth. “I am surprised you know it, though.”

 

It was a new way of feeling connected to Delphine, through the intellectual, through social theory most people dismissed in her world. Art described, it did not explain. It was a cliché, yes, but she felt as though no one else in the room mattered, as though they could live in that moment, speaking about social theory for the rest of the night and it wouldn't matter.

 

“What are you two talking about?” Billie bounced over, wrapping herself around Cosima's arm.

 

“Frantz Fanon.” Cosima replied, head snapping over as she jolted back to the room.

 

“Is that an artist?”

 

“No, he's a psychologist and social theory. He wrote a lot about decolonization.” The words were a sigh, a near-unnoticeable disappointment.

 

“Oh. Well. That sounds interesting.”

 

“Yes, I recommend you read him sometime. His most famous work is _Les Damnes de la Terre_.” Delphine supplied, smiling despite the sweeping look and arched brow Billie gave her in response.

 

“Is it in French?”

 

“It's been translated.” Cosima glanced between the two of them, the silent tension growing by the moment. “ _The Wretched of the Earth._ ”

 

“Cool, I'll check it out.” Billie said, flat and clearly uninterested, redirecting her enthusiasm to Cosima. “Can I talk to you privately for a minute, babe?”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” She reached up to brush Delphine's shoulder. “I'll see you around?”

 

Delphine smiled and nodded, watching the two head to the stairs. _She slips away so easily._ It was true, she always had another commitment, another person who wanted her time and attention. Now, it was her friends, her lovers. But soon, it would be Leekie, would be Delphine's father, other Important Men; art dealers, curators, agents, reporters. And Delphine would be just another one of them, clambering to be noticed above the din. This was good, though, Delphine told herself. It was good because they were not fighting, could maybe even be friendly acquaintances one day.

 

She took a sip of her wine, wrapped her arms around her chest and moved on to another person's work. They were photos, landscapes, people smiling and laughing. Dreadlocks and blonde curls out of focus, hands joined on a table shining clearly. Lithe body, half-clad in clothes, tangles of limbs and cloth and bone. A woman, crying, lit by the distant glow of stage lights as a couple cuddles behind her. A woman. Cosima. _Sarah. This is Sarah's work._ She felt ice spread through her organs, overtaking her cirulatory system.

 

“Ya really broke her heart.” Sarah had a habit of ending her sentences with questions, Delphine had noticed, but there was no room for that sort of open-ended uncertainty here.

 

“Yes. I know.” Delphine breathed, swallowing to try to loosen the tightness of her skin around her throat. “I wish I could take it all back. Do it all over again.”

 

“Not many people know this about me, so if you tell anyone--” Sarah's threat hung in the air between them, unfinished because it didn't really _need_ to be. Delphine wasn't much for gossip and even if she were, who would she tell? Alison? Many of her friends had disappeared, siding with Paul, with the one who had been cheated on.

 

“You'd have to kill me.” She joked.

 

“Yeah, something like that.” Sarah agreed, continuing, “Cal was my mark, originally. I spent a lot of time when I first went to school scamming trust fund kids for all they were worth, then dumping them for the next.” She paused, running a hand through her hair.

 

“But you are still with him.”

 

“I got pregnant.” Sarah's voice was hoarse. “Didn't know it til after we'd ended things. It took me three years to tell him, one more to get back with him. Now, I can't imagine my life without him. Cosima, she supported all of my decisions, helped me when I struggled with feeling stuck.” She chuckled. “Somehow, she still believes in love, after everything she's been through. And,” she grasped Delphine's arm, waiting til she turned to look at her, “she loves you. I think she's daft, but I don't think she can help it.”

 

Delphine felt her heart rip, felt echos of it in every muscle. “I love her, too.”

 

“Tell her, then. The girl she's with, she loves her, too. Go get her before she gives up on you.” Sarah dropped her hand, settling it in her pocket.

 

“Thank you, Sarah.”

 

“I'm not doing it for you.”

 

Delphine knew exactly where they'd gone, and she took the stairs, thankful for her long legs as she bounded two at a time, not slowing until she reached the door. She went for the handle, but paused, hearing voices almost clear enough to be heard. She pressed her ear against the metal, feeling it cold against her burning cheeks and trying to catch her breath.

 

“I'm not saying we have to be monogamous or whatever.” Billie was speaking. “But maybe we could go on dates and stuff. Maybe you could call me during the day sometimes?”

 

Cosima laughed. “I could probably do that.”

 

“I just—I really fell for you, Cosima. You're amazing.”

 

Delphine's breath hitched, and she placed her hand flat against the door, not sure if she should open it or knock or simply walk away. There was a brief pause, and she pressed harder against it, afraid she might miss Cosima's response, wishing and hoping vainly that Cosima would not return it, would walk away, walk into her embrace instead.

 

“You're amazing, too, Billie. I really like you. I've just been so caught up in all of this Delphine stuff. But it's over now. I'll be better for you. I promise.”

  

She exhaled, hearing it shake, feeling her fingers trembling against the door, though the cold had numbed her cheek, had numbed her palm. The cold was seeping fast into every inch of skin it could. She pulled back, moving without thinking back down the stairs, toward the front door of the building.

  
“Oi!” Sarah jogged to her, catching up quickly to Delphine's molasses movement. “Where are you going? What did she say?”

  

“She said things were over.” She smiled, feeling a tear leave a frigid trail on her cheek. “Congratulations on the exhibition, Sarah.”

 

* * *

 

“Cosima.” Leekie's voice always sounded gravelly and stretched. She wondered if it was age, or if it was that his enthusiasm for his work really did strain the limits of his vocal chords. He was charming, at least she could give that to Delphine. “I heard your final exhibition went extraordinarily well.”

  

“Yeah. Thank you, Mr. Leekie, it was great.” Cosima brought the joint back to her lips, inhaling deeply, filling herself with smoke so that thoughts of Delphine and Leekie could not take shape.

 

“I'm actually calling today about a business matter. Do you have a minute?”

 

She glanced around her apartment, silent and empty, barely contained her laugh. “Yeah, I've got a few, actually. What sort of business?”

 

“I sent some colleagues of mine to look at your work, and they were highly impressed. They confirmed what I already knew: that you're a rising star, and a perfect candidate for my summer showcase.”

 

She bolted straight up, dropping the joint onto her book and quickly regaining it, leaving singes and ash on the page. “What?”

 

“My summer showcase of up and coming modern artists. I'd like for you to show your work.”

 

“Like, at—at the MoMA?” She knew she should be playing it cool, but the words were stumbling from unguarded lips.

   
Leekie chuckled. “Yes, Cosima. At the MoMA. Of course, you'll be asked to create a new work under my supervision, and the assistant curator will be the one blocking most of the show. So, you'll be working quite closely with her, as well.” _Her. Delphine._ “In addition, there will be a profile of you and your work in the New York Times, so we'd ask for your full cooperation in that.”

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No problem, Mr. Leekie. None at all. That's—that's an incredible opportunity. Thank you.”

 

“No problem. You have a bright future, Ms. Niehaus, I only wish to help you along on your path.”


	16. A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o friends! So, here's the thing. When I posted that last chapter, I had this bit mostly written. I just thought it would go better with the next chapter. But I've hit a bit of a block. Aaaaannndddd, I felt sorta bad for leading you all on, like some kinda dang angstmonster. So christmas is coming early! By which I mean I'm gonna post what I have despite the brevity to hopefully ease yr aching hearts a bit. Let me know how I did. Also, thank you so so so so much for saying nice things to me. It honestly means a lot, it's super incredible to see people engaging with something I produced that I've put a lot of time and energy into. On top of that, it gives me an idea of where you all are at as readers, so I can check myself and say "oh, so I totally didn't explain that enough" or "people are intrigued by such and such, I should explore that." So keep talking! I want to hear all of it! And as always, enjoy!

“I'm really sorry, Billie.” She rubbed her palms against her bare knees, watching her skin stretch taut and slacken again. “I swear it's not you. I think I just drank too much.”

 

Billie snorted, still sitting at the head of the bed with her arms wrapped around her legs. “I thought that only happened to guys.” Cosima glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked. “Look, it's fine.” She reached toward the foot of the bed where Cosima sat and ran gentle fingers over her shoulder. “Just come cuddle with me.”

 

“Actually, I think I'm gonna go home.” She stood, barely sparing an apologetic glance to Billie before dressing. “My big, empty bed is calling me. But I'll call you tomorrow.” She leaned over, intending to place a kiss to the top of curly brown hair, but Billie tilted her head up to catch it on her lips.

 

“Sleep tight, baby.”

 

“Yeah. You too.”

 

Her body felt heavy, like it needed to be dragged by her thigh muscles alone, dead weight clinging to her heels, wrists and neck. In a way, it was nice; the feeling of the earth solid, so hard and firm and constant, beneath her feet, pressing back up against her as she pushed down. Physics. Force diagrams. That would definitely make its way into her next painting. Her apartment was across town, so she wasn't sure why she was walking—she'd told herself it was because she needed to find a cab, but many had passed by without her so much as flinching toward them.

 

Okay, that was a lie. She knew damn well where she was headed.

 

“ _Oi! Cos!” Sarah jogged over to her, catching her by the arm and splitting the conversation Cosima was engaged in without a thought. “You all right? I just talked to Blondie.”_

 

_Cosima's brow furrowed, and she turned briefly to the man she'd been speaking with, asking him for a moment and watching until he was engaged with someone else. She swiveled back to Sarah. “What are you talking about?”_

 

“ _Delphine. She went after you. Said you told her it was over.” Sarah's mouth hung open partially, face caving in on itself as it did when she was confused or alarmed._

 

“ _I never talked to her, I never said--” She paused, bringing a hand to her forehead. “Shit. Shit!”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _She heard me talking to Billie.” Cosima shut her eyes, hand still resting on her forehead, and shook her head. “She heard her telling me she fell for me, asking for us to get more serious.”_

 

“ _Whoa. Look at you, Cos!” Sarah grinned, smacking her on the arm. “All grown up and got ladies crawling all over you.”_

 

“ _Not now, Sarah.” Cosima dropped her hand to her hip to mirror where the other had been resting. “What am I supposed to do?”_

 

_Sarah shrugged, taking a swig of her beer. “Go after her?”_

 

_She exhaled through her nose, bringing a hand up to rest in the air. “I—I can't. I promised Billie we'd hang out tonight.”_

 

“ _Sounds like you're fucked then, ain't ya?”_

 

She hadn't been present for the rest of the evening, not really. She'd been blocks away, showing up at Delphine's door, dragging her eyes up her body, pressing her back into the wall. She'd been thinking of all the different ways it could go, different ways she could say 'I'm sorry,' how it would feel to hear it. Even in the next few days, spending time with her friends or working on her art; biking down the street or out on dates with Billie, as she had been tonight, she could not stop thinking of it.

 

She paused outside the building, tall and looming, tried to calculate which window was hers. The light was off—which made sense at midnight, but still, it was off-putting. She moved forward, body even weightier than before while simultaneously feeling impelled to movement, like twine tied around her hips, urging her.

 

_608 D. Cormier_

 

She held her finger over it, hesitating before the twine tugged again and she pressed it down for a second. No answer. It was late, she knew, too late for her to be here doing this but she could not wait any longer. She pressed again.

 

“Yes?” The voice that came through sounded scratchy and raw. She'd been sleeping.

 

“Hey, Delphine. Can we talk?”

 

“Cosima?” The gentle smoothness of her voice was beginning to return, and Cosima leaned against the wall, feeling drunk off the sound of it.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it's me.”

 

The buzzer was harsh and obnoxious, but the clicking sound it brought with it was entirely welcome. She pulled the door open and moved as quickly as she could to the elevator, feeling herself burning suddenly with a nervous excitement. The twine had braided into a full-blown rope, and being crowded into this small metal box was not helping. She would see Delphine soon. They would talk about it. Things could be okay. The door pinged open, and she practically jogged down the hallway. She paused in front of the door. There were still _things_ , though. Big things. Like Leekie. She looked at her hand, at the door, as though they could help her decide what to do.

 

 

 

 

Sarah's words had not left Delphine, neither had Beth's nor Alison's. _She's in deep. She loves you. Go get her before she gives up on you._ She  was waiting for the knock, for some sign that Cosima was on the other side of the door. She felt ridiculous, standing—waiting—by the door like a dog for its master, gripping the frame until her fingers began to prickle. She glanced at her watch. She'd buzzed Cosima in five minutes ago. It was a slow elevator, sure, but five minutes was a long time. Five minutes was enough to microwave dinner, to find out you've won the lottery, to find out you've lost a friend.

 

Even though she'd been waiting for it, the knock made her jolt, made her muscles spasm in unison  and stumble back. She took a deep breath, licking her lips which suddenly stuck to each other for lack of moisture, then opened the door.

 

“Cosima.” She breathed the name out as soon as she saw her, not taking the time to observe the bag-cushioned eyes, the furrowed brows, not waiting for her name to stumble from her lips. No, she knew what she wanted.

 

Those lips, gaping open and wanting for her were what she wanted and she would not wait for words to muddle her craving any longer. She took a half step forward, grasping at Cosima's cheeks, soft and flushed, holding them still so she could press their lips together. They closed only slightly when she pushed forward, and she used the opportunity to taste her tongue, to flicker against it, feel the muscle jerk in response. But it was not enough, so she let her tongue wander, trace the cartilage at the roof of her mouth. Cosima's fingers twisted into her shirt where they'd grasped at her waist and pulled her closer, flush against her, hips pressing where they rose to her thighs and pubic bone jutting against their juncture.

 

Delphine's hands slipped down Cosima's cheeks to her neck, brushing down taut sinew and bulging veins to her collarbone, tracing it with her fingertips. Cosima pulled away just long enough to let out a shuddering breath, to nip at her lower lip, to awaken the burning embers in the base of her.

 

“You feel so good.” The words slipped out between kisses as Delphine stepped backward, attempting to pull her further into the apartment. Cosima pulled away, pressing against her stomach, pushing her back.

 

“Stop.”

 

“Why? This is right. _We_ are right together.”

 

Cosima licked her lips, eyes fluttering to the floor then back up to Delphine's eyes. “We need to talk about things.”

 

Delphine stepped back as well, running a hand through tangled curls. “I am sick of talking. We talk and everything falls apart.” She shut her eyes, fluttering beneath the lids.

 

“Let's be honest, Delphine.” Cosima grasped a hand, holding her a step away and not letting her retreat farther. “Everything we've done within a 100-foot radius of one another has gone to hell, so blaming talking seems pretty unfair.” She ran her free hand along her own jawline, breath still trembling, heart still thumping wildly beneath her breastbone. “I—I want this. I do. But not now.” She shook her head. “Not like this. We still have so much to talk about, and I'm pretty sure you've been drinking.”

 

“Just a few glasses.” Delphine explained, stepping forward and dropping her voice to match their proximity. “I've wanted this for so long, it is not a rash decision.”

 

“I know. Me too.” Cosima smiled, reaching up and tracing her lips with her thumb. “And,” She replaced her thumb briefly with her lips, pulling back just enough to be able to look Delphine in the eye. “I want you to be stone sober the first time I fuck you. So you'll remember every detail.”

 

Silence seeped into the air around them, sated  to overflowing with lust that had built for so long—too long.  It lived inside of the both of them, lived on the surface of their skin and in their organs, in their bones, in their cartilage. It was a sickness that created the sweetest ache, the kind that grows stronger with every moment. The kind that, even though it feels as though it is building toward a natural conclusion of the most breathtaking sort, you don't want to end.

 

“Delphine.”

 

“Hmm?” Delphine didn't dare speak, not wanting to dislodge Cosima's knuckles from where they'd curled to brush along her jaw.

 

“Leekie.”

 

Every muscle in her body tensed, from the smallest to the largest, and the hand on her face felt suddenly burdensome. She pulled away, turning to walk farther into her living room.

 

“I don't want to talk about him.” She dropped onto her couch, leaning her forehead into a hand propped on the arm of it.

 

“Well, I do.” Cosima shut the door behind her, choosing the coffee table as a perch so she could see Delphine clearly.

 

“What do you want to know?” Delphine lifted her head enough that she could splay her fingers in exasperated compliance.

 

“Do you love him?” Cosima's jaw was set, eyes harsh and unblinking.

 

“It—it's complicated.” She breathed, shaking her head.

 

“That's not an answer.”

 

Delphine leaned back into the cushions' embrace, crossing her arms over her chest. “I did, at one point. Now, I don't know. He's a friend.”

 

“A friend you sleep with.” Cosima corrected, in parts mocking, in others wary.

 

“Yes, Cosima, a friend I sleep with.” It was her knee-jerk response, to meet mocking with mocking, to hold her ground despite her best intentions.

 

Silence took hold again, this time tinged with a familiar animosity. Delphine's gut twisted, and she pulled her feet up to the couch, folding in on herself.

 

“Ten years. Mrs. S said the two of you have been dating for ten years.” She was quiet now, subdued by the tension she desperately wanted to sweep away. “I just—how did it start? Why? Just—just why?”

 

“Ole had committed suicide. Things with my father were getting worse. I decided at the last minute to attend university in America. New York. To get away.” Delphine bit at the corner of her lip, finding grounding in the grinding of bone against tender skin. “I'd met Leekie at a few of my father's parties, but hadn't spoken to him much. When I moved, he offered to show me around. At first, I assumed my father was trying to monitor me, make sure I did not get into trouble. But Aldous was not what I was expecting. He was sweet, he asked for my opinion. For an eighteen year old who had only ever been told what her opinion _should_ be, it was incredible. I felt...” She laughed, watching the windowpane as though she could see it replaying there. “Important. I suppose that's silly.”

 

“No.” Cosima's hand tightened on the edge of the coffee table. “It's not silly.”

 

Delphine just nodded, eyes still on the glare of the lights in the window. “He was younger then, he still had hair and the lines on his face were not so deep, it was not so severe, but he was still just as charming. I was taken in by him.” She shrugged. “That's all.”

 

“But you don't feel that way now?”

 

“I'm older now. Power is not so impressive, people are not so two dimensional anymore. I slowly began to understand what was happening, the dynamics of our arrangement.” She looked back over to Cosima, whose eyes seemed slacker around the edges, had shed some of their judgment. “I didn't stop because I had no reason to. He is very smart, charming, a decent lover.”

 

“Whoa. TMI.” Cosima waved her hands in front of her face. “Do not need that image.”

 

“I don't understand why it bothers you so much.”

 

Cosima leaned forward, watching her fingers play with the ring on her right hand, large and silver. “I guess because he can give you things I can't.”

 

Delphine reached a hand forward, grasping Cosima's fidgeting one, and forcing it idle in her palm. “There is nothing Aldous can give me that I want more than you.” They watched one another for a silent minute, Delphine wanting some sort of confirmation, that she hadn't exposed herself too readily, Cosima for proof her own honesty would be met with kindness. “Ask me to stop, Cosima. It's all you have to do. I'm done fighting this.”

 

“Stop sleeping with him, Delphine.” Cosima rasped, breaths feeling too large for her chest. “Please just be mine. Let me be selfish, let me have you all to myself.”

 

She leaned forward, pulling Cosima to her, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. “I'm yours.” She grabbed one of Cosima's hands, placing it below her undershirt on her stomach, guiding it upwards. “Completely.”

 

Her hand brushed the underside of a breast, and she inhaled sharply, pulling it back. “Wait. There's something else.”

 

Delphine's eyes, lids thick and heavy, watched the hand retreat then looked back to Cosima's eyes. “What's wrong?”

 

“If you ever treat me like that again—lie to me, string me along, make me feel like shit—I will not hesitate to use the dirt I have on you to ruin your career.” Cosima's eyes were still soft, though some of the granite had calcified into the whites of them.

 

Delphine laughed—because how else was she supposed to react to that?--and shrugged. It stung, struck a note of pain and distrust that resonated in her still sore and aching heart, but she laughed and nodded. “Okay, Cosima.”

 

“I should go home.” She stood abruptly, smoothing out her dress and tights, adjusting it so the pleats and ruffles caused by her sitting were smooth and the dress showed off her curves once again. “I meant what I said about wanting you to be sober the first time we have sex, and if I stay here, I won't be able to help myself.”

 

Delphine stood as well, her disappointment at Cosima's sudden departure combined with the pleasant, searing sweetness of her words mingling awkwardly in her stomach. “Okay.” They walked silently to the door together, stopping only when it's open and Cosima is lingering on the threshold. “I will see you soon, yes?”

 

Cosima nodded. “Yes. Definitely.” She craned her neck up, relying on Delphine to catch her drift and lean down, kissing her until Delphine's hands began to wander and she pulled away again. “See? This is exactly what I was talking about!”

 

“Ciao.”

 

She began to walk backward down the hall, still smiling and brushing her hand through the air in a careless wave. “Bye. Ciao.”


	17. If I Were A Bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I finally managed to write something! Look at me! So proud! The perfectionist in me is displeased I'm posting this without Further Editing, but they're just gonna have to chill cause I can't stare at this chapter anymore. Also, I wrote fluff! Also also, don't worry. I don't do Cosima sickness cause really, we all have too much death in our lives and I just love Cosima and my heart can't. take it. I also promise there will never be a dream sequence that is not expressly such. I'm angsty, but I'm not a tease.
> 
> Okay. Maybe I'm a little bit of a tease but you like it.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for all the amazing feedback, I really appreciate it so much, and going through and rereading what you've said helped when I was struggling to put (metaphorical) pen to (metaphorical) paper. Enjoy enjoy enjoy!

_Are you home?_

 

Delphine sent the text message, then rummaged about her apartment, finding a pair of running shorts and a tank top, digging her shoes out of the back of the closet she kept them in. She hadn't gone running in a while, not since everything had blown up, and she had begun to feel the dip in energy, the extra struggle that came with every day actions.

 

_Just about. Why?_

 

She tucked her phone into her armband, pulled her hair into a bun atop her head and headed down the stairs of her apartment building. She wasn't playing music, as she usually would. Today, she wanted to hear the city, to have it pulse through her with every step, to be spurred on by the natural beat of humanity in all its iterations. Today, she was feeling good about people, about life. It was a long run to Cosima's, too long for leg muscles that hadn't been strained in weeks, so she drove until she was a few miles away. It would be a good warm-up, getting back in the swing of things kind of run _and_ she would be just sweaty enough to be appealing without being too tired or sore. It didn't take long until she was in front of Cosima's apartment, sweat clinging to her skin without pouring or streaking, and she pulled out her phone.

 

_Go to your window._

 

Thirty seconds later, a familiar face appeared behind the pane, a smile breaking across her confusion. She pushed the bottom half up, leaning against the sill so her head stuck out slightly from it.

 

“Hey there, stranger.” She called down. “Don't you think it's a little early to go all Melissa Etheridge on me? Not that I'm not happy to see you.”

 

Delphine had no idea what that meant, but she laughed anyway. “Well, I was out for a run and I realized about halfway through that I was—what was the expression— _stone_ sober? And I was nearby, so...”

 

Cosima raised an eyebrow, pushing her lips off to the side of her mouth as she mulled it over. Before she could respond, though, another head popped through the window.

 

“Who is blonde lady?” A voice, dense with an Eastern European accent, cracked through the air, harsh and accusing.

 

“Blonde lady is Delphine.” Cosima responded slowly, a hint of condescension—or maybe irritation—tinging her words. “She's my friend.”

 

“Is that Sarah?” Delphine squinted into the sunlight, using a hand as a visor so she could see the face more clearly.

 

“She knows my sestra?”

 

“Yeah. They've met.” Cosima nudged the woman, then raised her voice so Delphine could hear her clearly. “No, it's her sister. Helena.”

 

“Does Sarah like her?” Helena continued, uninterested in Cosima's attempts to brush her off.

 

“She doesn't not like her.”

 

“I like her voice.” Helena said, softly. She cocked her head to the side. “It is like a music box.” She started singing a melody that only sounded like a music box if it was possessed by a demon from hell, then disappeared back into the apartment.

 

“I'm gonna come down, okay?” Cosima didn't wait for an answer before she ducked back inside as well, shutting the window behind her.

 

Delphine walked over to the door, leaning against the wall with her hands on her hips. After a second she straightened, realizing she looked like she was posing and, well, she wanted to look good but she didn't want it to be _obvious_. The door swung open, and Cosima immediately pulled her through it and flush up against her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

 

“God, it feels good to be able to do that.” She was grinning, hands still lingering on Delphine's cheeks. She leaned in for another kiss, pinning her against the now shut door, running hands up her sides. “How quiet can you be? Because I think I can swing being gone for maybe like twenty minutes, and these halls are usually pretty deserted this time of day.” She moved her lips down the slope of Delphine's neck, brushing her lips where her collarbone disappeared into her shoulder. “Besides, my neighbors are gonna have to get used to us being loud anyway.”

 

Delphine pushed on her shoulders, forcing her upper body away, though their hips remained firmly together.

 

“I think we can avoid public sex for the rest of the month, Cosima.” She was smiling, but Cosima's face fell instantly.

 

“The end of the month?”

 

“Yes. When I move.”

 

Cosima took a step back, brow furrowing and hands coming up to her hips. “Moving?” She let out a breath that bordered on a sigh. “I thought you said no more secrets.”

 

“It's not a secret, Cosima.” Delphine reached for her hand, but she breezed it away, making Delphine sigh. “You knew this. I have a job at the MoMA. The position is already vacant, Aldous was very generous in allowing me to wait until after graduation.”

 

“Shit.” Cosima turned away, bringing a hand up to her forehead for a second as she thought. “I forgot about that.”

 

“It's okay.” Delphine wrapped her arms around Cosima's waist, moving gently against her back. “He told me you accepted a spot in the summer exhibition, we'll see each other all the time.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. But after that?” She turned her head so she could see Delphine's eyes. “My family's here. I can't move to New York.”

 

Delphine pulled back enough to turn Cosima around, bringing her hands up to stroke her cheeks. “We'll deal with that when we get there. I'm finished with trying to plan the future. We have something special, and it will work for at least the next few months. After that, we'll see.” She leaned in for a chaste brushing of lips. “Okay?”

 

Cosima nodded. “I don't know. I mean, I have to come back. Sarah and Felix, and the rest of Rimbaud; they need me.”

 

“Then we will see each other on weekends, or I will book a hotel room for us at Niagara falls, every week. And we can do a different hotel every time, make up fake identities and be whoever we want to be. It will be fine.”

 

Cosima laughed. “I didn't know you were the role playing type, Cormier.”

 

“If it makes you happy, I will do it.” She leaned in again, smiling as their lips made a slight, unintentional contact. “We will make it work, no matter what.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yeah. Okay.” Cosima moved the rest of the way to press their lips together, chaste again but now lingering. “So, wanna meet Helena? She's the cherry on top of my family's crazy sundae.”

 

“How could I not, when you make her seem so appealing?”

 

They linked hands as Cosima led them up the stairway, just a step ahead of Delphine. She turned her head, keeping her voice low so that she wouldn't be heard. “So, Helena's kind of... different.”

 

Delphine pursed her lips. “Oh? How so?”

 

“When she first met us, she was this totally normal English chick, right? A lot like Sarah but somehow way less stable.” She waved a hand, clearing the thought. “Anyway, she started doing this—I think it was supposed to be a performance art thing—where she pretended to be a Ukranian assassin.”

 

Delphine raised an eyebrow. “A Ukranian... Assassin.”

 

Cosima blew out a breath, stopping at the top of the stairs. “Yeah. When she started getting into heavier drugs, I think she lost the ability to tell what was real and what was fake anymore, so she's just like that all the time now.”

 

“I see.”

 

“She's totally harmless, just kinda batshit. It's best not to push her on things.”

 

“You forget, ma cherie, that I have experience with 'batshit.'” She rubbed at Cosima's upper arm with her thumb. “I'm not afraid.”

 

“Okay, cool. Good.” She raised her eyebrows. “Here we go, welcome to wonderland.” She pushed the door open to Helena pouring sugar on a tin of sardines and shoving them in her mouth. “Oh, my god. That's disgusting.”

 

Delphine just laughed, walking the rest of the way in, followed closely by Cosima. “Hello, Helena. What are you eating?”

 

Helena paused from what she was doing, head quirking to the side slightly. “Hello, Blonde Cosima friend. I am eating fish in can.” She picked one up and held it out, fishy oil, mustard, and sugar dripping onto Cosima's desk, making her wince. “Would you like one?”

 

“Non, I've just eaten. Thank you.” Delphine held a hand up, dropping the other over her stomach to settle her own nausea.

 

“Hello, Delphine.” Felix called from where he was sprawled on his side on the bed, flipping through a fashion magazine from the 60s. “We're on babysitting detail.”

 

“I am not baby.” Helena muttered, baring her mouthful of half-chewed food.

 

Felix just rolled his eyes, not bothering to look up from his magazine. Delphine turned to face Cosima, who was eyeing the situation with a growing displeasure. She turned as well, catching Delphine's eyes and mouthing 'save me.'

 

“Well, Cosima and I have a date.” Delphine said suddenly, picking up her hand and settling her fingers between Cosima's. “Are you all right by yourself, Felix?”

 

He finally looked up from the magazine, glancing between the two of them briefly. “You like each other today, then?” He asked, shaking his head. “We need to get you two one of those bloody warning level signs they have outside fire stations.” He held his hands up, picturing the sign. “Angst danger today: low, moderate, high, code red.”

 

“Thanks for the editorial, Felix.” Cosima cut in, suddenly. “So, can you stick around and watch Helena or not?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. But you owe me.”

 

There was a park nearby that the two seemed to head to without needing to discuss what their plan was. Truthfully, they were both simply content to walk along together, hands hanging between them, swinging slightly as they moved. It was unbearably hot in the unbroken sunshine of the city streets, so they mostly stayed quiet until they reached the park and settled in the grass beneath a tree.

 

“I really wanna cuddle with you, Delphine, but I'm dying of heat.” Cosima laughed, laying flat on the ground and letting it leach the heat from her skin.

 

Delphine took the spot next to her, laying on her side. Cosima had taken off her glasses, humming in gentle contentment with her eyes closed for a few minutes. Eventually, she opened them, staring up at the leaves above them.

 

“Can you see them?” Delphine asked, softly, not wanting to crack the gentle ease of the moment.

 

“See what?” Cosima rolled her head to the side, squinting slightly as she looked at her.

 

“The leaves. Without your glasses.” Instinctively, she reached out, tracing the line above her cheekbone usually barred from her view.

 

“Yeah. They just look different. Fuzzy little dots of light and color. It's kind of like an impressionist painting. But I almost prefer it this way, you know? It's kind of cool, being able to see the world in ways most people will never be able to.” Cosima shrugged, turning her head back up so she could see the leaves, squinting then releasing then squinting again.

 

Delphine hummed, turning her own head to gaze up at the leaves, as well. “It is strange that people who are near-sighted don't appreciate the perspective it offers, isn't it? Though I suppose not being able to see must feel frightening or burdensome.”

 

Cosima nodded. “Sometimes, definitely.” After another pause, she added, “Monet had cataracts. Did you know that?"

 

Delphine burst out laughing, rolling onto her back. “I'd never thought of it.”

 

“That's cause you can see.” Cosima reached out and stroked at her cheek, smiling. “Because you're perfect.”

 

Delphine was up on her side again, leaning over Cosima to plant a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She pulled away, taking in her face unobstructed, the curves of it seeming softer and rounder, her eyes sparkling unusually bright without the thick black rims to distract from them. “You're perfect, Cosima.” Her voice came out quieter than she'd expected, and she cleared her throat gently. “You have beautiful eyes, and a beautiful mind, and I—“ She knew what she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat, scared to leave the safety of her mind.

 

“You...?” Cosima pressed, gentle smile on her face.

 

“Je t'aime.”

 

“Oh.” Cosima sat up, forcing Delphine to retreat and settle back on her elbows. “Oh.” She repeated herself, resting her head in her hand, propped up on a bent knee.

 

“I'm sorry, was that too soon?” She wasn't sure if she was angry or terrified at the reaction, perhaps a volatile mixture of both, and her heart picked up pace, closed itself off to the outside world, buckled down for a long siege.

 

“No. No. It's just...” Cosima rubbed at her forehead. “It's just that those words mean a lot to me.”

 

Delphine straightened as well so that she could attempt to catch Cosima's eye, but she kept it tucked carefully onto the ground. “I do not say it lightly.”

 

“No. I know that, I know.” She finally glanced up, resting her other hand on Delphine's shoulder and stroking absently at it with her thumb.

 

“Then what is it, Cosima?”

 

Cosima let out a little sigh, eyes switching back to the ground. “I learned the hard way that love isn't what most people think it is. It's not just really caring about someone, you know? It's so much more intense than that. My parents, when they drove me out the door, told me to change who I was—that wasn't love. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't love. So now, I just—I can't take it for granted. For me, love is unconditional. If someone tells me they love me, I want it to mean something real, I want them to be sure.” She caught Delphine's eye, letting the words linger for a minute before adding, “does that make sense?”

 

She nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

 

“So, I'm not saying I'm freaked out or anything, I'm just saying take some time and make sure you really mean it, okay?”

 

Delphine kissed her softly, squeezing her shoulder as she pulled away. “Okay.”

 

It was easy after that, falling into gentle touches and conversations that bounced around, stretching the gamut of both their knowledge bases. Cosima was pleased to learn that Delphine thoroughly understood neuroscience, perhaps better than Cosima herself, and Delphine appreciated Cosima's perspective on her dissertation (despite it being finished already).

 

The entire time, though, their conversation from earlier lingered in the back of Delphine's mind. She knew she would give up almost anything to be with Cosima, with this woman in front of her. But she'd experienced loving someone who'd changed, who'd become much harder to keep that promise to. Loving him had meant giving up on parts of her own happiness; is that what unconditional meant? If Cosima murdered someone tomorrow, could she still love her? Would it still apply if she were no longer the woman Delphine had grown so fond of?

 

When the sun had blazed its trail, hot and unforgiving, even higher in the sky, and the temperatures began to push ninety, they decided to give up on the park. Both of them had plans for the day, anyway. The walk back was excruciatingly sweaty and hot, Delphine longed for the air conditioning in her car just a few miles away. _Would it be absurd to take a taxi there? Yes, of course it would. What are you thinking?_ It was so hot, in fact, they couldn't even hold hands without the skin sticking and the sweat practically sizzling between their palms.

 

“What are you doing Friday night?” Cosima asked, slowing to a stop in the shade of her stoop and leaning against the wall next to the door.

 

“Spending time with you, hopefully?” Delphine smiled, reaching up to squeeze Cosima's forearm.

 

“Yes. Awesome. I'll pick you up at six.”

 

“Six? Isn't that a little early?”

 

Cosima simply waved a hand in the air, brushing her question off. “You'll see.” She shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “So, I had a lot of fun with you today.”

 

“Yes. I had fun, as well. Thank you, Cosima.” It was awkward, for some reason, as though all the history dissipated.

 

“Can I kiss you goodnight or good afternoon or whatever?” Cosima rubbed at the back of her neck, looking up at Delphine from under dark lashes.

 

“Of course you can.” She leaned down, forcing Cosima up against the wall with her body, and letting their lips search one another, teeth coming out for little nips and tongues to sooth and tease.

 

“Oi! Will you stop making out and get your arse up here? I have a social life, too, you know!”

 

Cosima rolled her eyes as Delphine pulled away. “Felix has such ridiculously terrible timing.”

 

“Yes, well. It's probably a good thing. I will see you Friday.”


	18. Emmylou

“So? Did you do it?”

 

Cosima rolled her eyes. _That would be how Sarah answers her damn phone._ “Yeah, I did it.”

 

“How'd it go?”

 

Cosima glanced both ways at the intersection before pedaling forward. “About as well as can be expected, I guess. She yelled a little. Called me some choice names.” She shrugged even though Sarah couldn't see her. “I think she'll be all right.”

 

“I don't give a bloody shit how Billie's doing, Cos.”

 

She cringed, frowning. “Imagery, Sarah.”

 

“Whatever, you get the point. How are you?”

 

“I'm fine. Feeling kinda guilty and relieved at the same time.” She leaned back, pedaling and steering the bike with her weight instead of her hands.

 

“Personally, I'm glad you ended it. She annoyed the shit out of me.”

 

“You tell me this now?” Cosima raised an eyebrow. “This would've been helpful information, like, six months ago.”

 

“You liked her, and she was taking your mind off your obsessive crush on Delphine.”

  
“My crush on her was not obsessive!” She straightened, making the bike wobble, and she leaned forward again to catch herself. “It was a totally normal level of infatuation.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“I do.” She hit the hill before her house and shifted down a little, rising to her feet to keep her momentum for as long as possible. “Hey, look. I'm on my bike so I'm gonna go. But we're still going out to Cal's cabin tonight, right?”

 

“Yeah, of course. I'm already out here, Fe said he was gonna try to swing out around eight so he'll probably get you around 7.”

 

“Cool, see you soon.”

* * *

The door to Cal's patio scraped as it slid open, then back shut. It wasn't loud, necessarily, just a disturbance in the otherwise silent night. Cal's family had a cabin on the outskirts of the city, where the stars shone brighter for lack of streetlights and the sounds of cars and people disappeared, the complete opposite of Cosima's or Felix's apartments. Felix dropped to the ground next to Cosima, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, just like she was. The night was as hot as the day had been, though the sun's disappearance had lessened the burden pretty considerably.

 

“What are you looking at?”

 

Cosima didn't break eye contact with the stars, quiet and constant above her. “Orion's belt.”

 

Felix looked down at his knees then back up to Cosima's face. “Thinking about your parents?”

 

She nodded, hands tightening where they rested against her legs. “Orion's belt was the only constellation...”

 

“Your mother could always find. Yeah, I remember.” He finished for her, reaching over to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his chest. “What were they like?”

 

“They were... nice, actually. Loving.” She inhaled, the scent of lavender body soap and a touch of cologne calming her. She used to hate it, wasn't used to people who wore unnatural scents in the circle of hippies she'd inhabited as a young person, but had grown to find refuge in it over the years of her exile. “My mom was a botanist. A sunchild. My dad was a sailor, so the stars were really important to him. He never understood why astronomy didn't interest her.”

 

“Why did you leave?” The words tangled in her dreads, lips brushing against her scalp.

 

“One day I stopped feeling it.” She finally took her eyes from the sky, shutting them and nuzzling closer into Felix. “All the love and adoration. We fought all the time—we'd never fought before. And I told them they were hurting me with everything they were doing, that I wasn't going to change—that I wouldn't. They thought they were doing the right thing, though. You know? Said they were doing it because they loved me. And that's the hardest part, that they wouldn't listen to me, and that they really truly thought love meant torturing me.”

 

“Sometimes the right thing is relative to the person.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That's what you always used to tell me, at least.”

 

“That's what they taught me, that everything is relative. Except for me liking women, I guess.” She moved her arm so it wrapped around his waist. “That's not love, though, is it? If it's only there when the person is what you want them to be?”

 

“Honestly?” Felix let his hand trace the seam along Cosima's shoulder. “I don't know.”

 

“I don't think it is.” They settled into silence, both of them watching the stars now, connecting the patterns in their heads, finding their favorites and letting the familiar figures subdue them into a sort of serenity. “Delphine told me she loves me.”

 

“Shouldn't you sound happy about that?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I guess so.”

 

“What's the problem?”

 

Cosima sighed, shaking her head. “I see so much of them in her. Which, in some weird, fucked up Freudian way is probably _why_ I like her. And at the same time, I don't want to fall for someone who thinks they know what's best.”

 

“What makes you think she's like them?” A plane, blinking red and white lights, crossed in front of the big dipper, one of the few he himself could identify—and that was only because Cosima had spent countless sleepless nights on the streets of various major cities trying to teach him.

 

“The way she explained kissing me back that first time, she said it was trying to make me feel better. Then she tried to stay away from me, didn't tell me about Leekie. All of it. I think she was trying to protect me as much as herself.”

 

He hummed his understanding, fingers still twirling in small patterns against her upper arm.

 

“I want to trust her, but I don't know if I should.”

 

“Do you really have a choice at this point?” He pulled away enough to catch the way her lips tugged down briefly.

 

“No, I guess I don't. I kinda forced us both into it, didn't I?”

 

“She's given up everything for you, Cosima. I've heard what people are saying about her and Alison and it's not pretty.”

 

Cosima nodded. “I know. I know that.” Then, after another moment of silence, “we haven't had sex yet. What if it's bad?”

 

He laughed, pulling away fully now but leaving his hand on her arm. “It bloody better not be, after all the moaning I've had to listen to from you.”

 

Cosima nudged him in the ribcage, making him twist away from her until she stopped and settled back against the wall. “That would be the worst, if she's like a total cold fish in bed.”

 

He laughed, nudging her. “I don't think you should worry about it. You two have chemistry, the rest can be taught.”

 

“Yeah, you're right. As always.”

 

“Cosima.” She looked over at him, smiling at the warmth that settled in her heart at his expression, in the way it felt like her chest opened and expanded. “Sarah, Mrs. S, me—hell, even Helena, the nutter—we're here for you. No matter what.”

 

“I know, Fe. I love you all, too.”

 

The door scraped open again, Sarah settling against the railing across from them and stretching her legs out to rest her feet on Cosima's knees. “Watcha talking about?”

 

“How much I love all of you.” Cosima replied, smiling as Sarah straightened slightly, then shrugged one shoulder.

 

“Oh. Well, yeah. Thanks, I guess.” She muttered, looking down at her hand. “I couldn't have survived without you two meatheads.”

 

Cosima tugged on Sarah's feet and simultaneously dropped her own legs flat against the floor, forcing Sarah almost into her lap.

 

“What the hell, Cos?”

 

Cosima wrapped her arms around her, touching their foreheads together. “Thank you for being there for me.” She glanced up at Felix, pulling his head into their huddle with her arm. “Both of you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I think you've had one too many.” Sarah pulled back, but didn't remove herself from the pile of bodies she'd gotten herself into. “Which means it's probably time for all of us to get some shuteye. Yeah?”

 

Felix and Cosima nodded and they all rose to their feet, slipping back inside the cabin.

* * *

“Where are you taking me, Cosima?” Delphine was driving, both hands on the steering wheel, sneaking little glances at her date. She'd been on this for a while now, trying to get Cosima to let her in on the plans for the night, but she was uncharacteristically quiet about it.

 

“There.” Cosima pointed to what looked like a warehouse building. “Park wherever you can.” They found a place a few blocks away, and walked back toward their destination.

 

Delphine slipped her hand into Cosima's. “So...” She began, raising her eyebrows and catching Cosima's eye. “Do I get to know where we are yet?”

 

“Nope.” She grinned, nudging Delphine's shoulder with her own. “Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can. Seldom found in woman, never found in man. Learn it, Cormier.”

 

Delphine rolled her eyes, squeezing the hand in her own. “You're lucky I like your insolence so much.”

 

Cosima hummed, stopping and holding onto Delphine's hand so she had to, as well. “You better.” She tugged on the hand, pulling their bodies together and kissing her softly. “And you're lucky I like kissing you so much.” She kept walking, grinning at the little huff Delphine let out behind her.

 

“Ay! Cos, you made it!” The woman who called out was broad, somewhere between Cosima and Delphine's height, with a shaved head, tight jeans that weren't pulled entirely up her hips, and a t-shirt.

 

Cosima leaned in to hug her. “Hey, JJ. Wouldn't miss it for anything, you know that.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You the patron saint of lost teens or something, I didn't forget.” She nodded her chin to Delphine. “This your girl?”

 

“Uh,” Cosima glanced up at Delphine, who was smiling at JJ. “This is Delphine. Delphine, JJ.”

 

“Enchantee.” Delphine held her hand out, smiling widely out of a genuine glee at seeing a new side to Cosima.

 

“Oh, shit. She's smokin' and French? Please tell me you're hittin' that, Cos, cause if you aren't I'm gonna.”

 

Delphine laughed. “I think you may be a bit young for me. But—eh—thank you? I suppose.”

 

“Age ain't nothin' but a number, girl.” JJ winked.

 

Cosima rolled her eyes. “Except according to the law, which says age is grounds for her being thrown in jail.” She wrapped an arm around Delphine. “Besides, you gotta leave at least some of them for me, right? It's only fair, I can't compete with your style.”

 

“Offer for a shopping trip still stands, man. Just gotta buy me some pretzels and shit.” JJ patted her on the shoulder. “Though the sick rhymes aren't something that can be taught, that shit just comes natural to me.”

 

“I'm good, thanks. You performing tonight?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Good. I'll see you inside, all right?” Cosima leaned in to hug her again, and Delphine offered a wave as they moved to go inside the building. At the door, Cosima dropped a twenty into the “suggested donations” box.

 

“We are at a showcase for the youth you work with?” Delphine asked, scanning the room and seeing a mixture of teenagers and middle aged women.

 

“Yep.” Cosima was grinning when Delphine looked down at her, wide and showing teeth. “I hope that's okay. They're like family, you know?”

 

“I thought I'd already met your family?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, Sarah and Felix and Helena, they're my nuclear family—siblings. But these kids, they're like my extended family. You're meeting the cousins.”

 

Delphine brought a hand to Cosima's cheek, stroking it lightly with her thumb. “I am honored that you brought me here. I already love them.”

 

“Good. Because, like, if you want to be with me, you can't just love me. I'm a package deal. You have to love everybody.”

 

“Then I love everybody.”

 

Cosima was still smiling, but something in it flickered and pulled away, and she looked down to her hands, which had started rubbing at one another.

 

“What's wrong, ma cherie?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing's wrong.” She shook her head, glancing up at Delphine. “It's just... are you my girlfriend or...?”

 

“Would you like me to be?”

 

Cosima's eyes flickered from one of Delphine's to the other, then back again. “Yes.”

 

“Then yes, I will be your girlfriend.” She leaned down to kiss Cosima again, pleasantly surprised by how she wasn't the least bit bothered by how public it was.

 

Cosima reached over and squeezed her hand. “Let's go grab some seats, it's gonna start soon.”

 

Delphine was impressed. She loved spoken word poetry, and the youth did not disappoint. They had a depth of understanding, a way of putting words to experience that rivaled the poets Delphine had known in her own youth; the ones that were accomplished and spent time at her father's parties, as well as the ones in her circle of well-educated friends. It shouldn't have been so striking, really, given Cosima had brought her to this, Cosima was _from_ this, and Delphine was often struck by her innovation and insight.

 

But still, these people were practically still children.

 

After it ended, there was a giant round of applause, and a reminder that there was still visual artwork on display for anyone who had missed it. She and Cosima rose to look at it, moving from painting to painting, each so different from the last it almost surprised her. She was used to the homogeneity that came from education. After a minute Cosima slipped away to say hi to another friend, and Delphine lingered by the paintings. She stopped in front of one, head falling off to the side as she studied it. It was painted on a piece of driftwood; on one end sat a little girl straddling a knot in the wood, peering down toward the floor. On the other, a squid's head, its tentacles stretching out toward the child without her noticing. She glanced between the two figures, traced the contours of the wood with her eyes. _Why?_

 

An arm slipped around her waist. “Hey, what'd I miss?”

 

Delphine stretched her arm out to rest around Cosima's shoulders, forcing her closer. “I was looking at this work. I feel as though I can see your influence.”

 

“Yeah? That's cool. I actually worked pretty closely with them.” She shrugged a shoulder. “They're great, totally interesting and talented, but they lack something, I don't know what.”

 

“Intent. Focus.” Delphine supplied, cocking her head the other way, taking the sight on from a different angle. “There's emotion in the work, but it doesn't know what it wants to say.”

 

“Except 'run, little girl!'” Cosima quipped, turning her grin toward Delphine, who laughed in return.

 

“Oui. Except that.”

 

“You're good at that, critiquing art.” She kept talking, still smiling at Delphine.

 

“Yes, well. I studied it for many years, I plan on doing it the rest of my life. One would hope I'd be good at it.” Delphine hummed, returning her eyes to the painting.

 

“I see you've chosen not to heed my advice, Cosima.” Siobhan's voice pierced through their comfortable domesticity, and Delphine felt Cosima jump away from her, breaking apart from her as she turned to face Siobhan.

 

“Oh. Hey, Mrs. S. Yeah, Delphine and I are giving it a shot.”

 

“Hmm.” Was the only reply she got.

 

“You warned her away from me?” Delphine was incredulous, hands rising to her hips, grasping at the belt loops of her black skinny jeans.

 

Mrs. S turned her chin so that she was looking at Delphine. “I did.”

 

“I know you don't like me, Siobhan, but that is not your place.”

 

Mrs. S sighed. “It's not that I don't like you, Mademoiselle Cormier, it's that I don't trust you. And Cosima means quite a lot to me.”

 

“I would never hurt her.” Delphine snapped back, unthinking as the anger rose in her chest.

 

“Is that so? Then I assume you've a plan for graduation, then?” She raised an eyebrow, the hair curving elegantly on her forehead. “What will your father say when he meets Cosima? Or were you not planning on introducing them?”

 

Delphine huffed out a breath, glancing to the ground. “I hadn't thought about it.” Her voice was quiet, sated with bitterness and anger, grinding out through clenched teeth.

 

“Come on, Mrs. S.” Cosima held a hand up, trying to get a handle on the situation.

 

“No, Cosima. This is the truth, and you both need to hear it. Marc Cormier will not like you. And it's not that you're a woman, it's that you're _you_. You have no money, you used to be homeless, you have dreadlocks, you will not give his daughter the life he wants for her. So he'll do what he always does whenever he doesn't get his way: he'll cut her off until she complies with his wishes.”

 

“I have a job.” Delphine snapped. Her fingers were so tight around her waist, she could practically feel the capillaries popping beneath them. “I don't need his money anymore.”

 

“Ah, yes. With Aldous Leekie.” Siobhan laughed, shaking her head slightly. “It's one thing for you to end your little fling—he's a shrewd man, he knows how to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit. But what do you think will happen if your father threatens to draw support from the MoMA if you continue to work there?”

 

“He wouldn't do that.”

 

“He would, and we both know it.” Siobhan's gaze was not soft or kind anymore, something had hardened in it; something deep and dark that mirrored in Delphine's eyes. “And we both know you'll cave and do what he wants.”

 

“I was sixteen, Siobhan!” Delphine yelled, turning several heads in the room. “What was I supposed to do? Lose everything for him?”

 

“You're standing in a room full of sixteen year olds who have had to make impossible decisions.” She looked at Cosima again in what had seemed like forever. “When you were faced with the choice of love or family pressure, which did you choose, chicken?”

 

Cosima glanced between the two of them, mouth hanging open. “I—what is going on?”

 

“Don't.” Delphine refocused Mrs. S' attention back to her. “This is about me. And it's not so cut and dried, you know. He had changed. He was sullen, depressed. He needed me constantly, his hospitalizations were becoming more frequent, it was out of control.”

 

“Yes. He needed you, and you abandoned him.” Delphine opened her mouth to speak, but Siobhan held a hand up to silence her. “As far as I'm concerned, Delphine, you are at least partially responsible for the death of an intelligent, sensitive, talented young man. And for what, Daddy's approval? Do you have that yet?”

 

Delphine looked to the ground, swallowing the phlegm that had begun to build at the back of her throat, making it harder to breathe. “I'm going to go home.” She glanced up at Siobhan and Cosima in succession, then nodded and walked away.

 

She made it a few paces before Cosima noticed, still staring in shock and horror at her mentor, at this woman who was so like a mother to her, who had never been anything but kind and understanding to her, who had just a minute ago been so cruel to another. She shook her head, blowing out a breath through her nose. “What the hell was that?”

 

“The truth, Cosima.”

 

She opened her mouth to speak again, but decided instead to chase after Delphine, who had managed to slip out the door. She tore through it, nearly slamming it into a group of youth who were out smoking cigarettes. She threw an apology over her shoulder and kept running. “Delphine! Hey, Delphine! Wait up!” They were at the driver's door before she finally caught up to her. “Hey, what just happened?”

 

Delphine snorted. “You were there, Cosima. You tell me.” She pulled on the handle, but Cosima leaned against it, forcing it shut again.

 

“I don't know what I saw, what I heard. I literally have no idea what happened.”

 

“I want to go home.” She sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hand massaging at her temples.

 

“Delphine, come on.” She reached up a hand to stroke at her cheek, but Delphine turned her head away. “Don't shut me out.”

 

“Please move, Cosima.” She was still looking down the road, at the distant blink of traffic lights at the busy intersection a few blocks away.

 

Cosima waited a beat, hoping Delphine would turn and look at her, or at least acknowledge her _somehow_. Acknowledge she was still there, that she was trying. But she didn't budge, not a muscle twitched out of place. She sighed and straightened, taking a step away from the car door.

 

“Thank you.” Delphine opened it and climbed inside, wasting no time in driving off.

* * *

 

_608 D. Cormier_

 

She pressed it for the third time, holding it a little longer now. Delphine's car was parked out front, she knew she was there. They needed to talk about it. She pressed it again, holding it until Delphine's voice cut in.

 

“What?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you.” She lifted her finger, and tucked her hand between her other arm and her ribcage.

 

“I don't want to talk to you right now.” Delphine sounded tired, sounded exasperated, sounded a million kinds of 'go the fuck away.'

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I'm upset with you.”

 

“You're upset with me? That's a joke, right? What the hell did I do?” She was met with silence, and after a bit she realized Delphine had walked away. “God damnit, Delphine.” She snapped, holding her finger on the buzzer again.

 

“Go home, Cosima.”

 

“No, not until we talk.” She squared off with the little box, as though she could intimidate it into letting her in. “Just let me inside. Just for five minutes.” Silence. “Please, Delphine.”

 

The buzzer sounded and she let herself in, slower than her normal excited skip, feet dragging all the way from the elevator to Delphine's door. She knocked, and a few seconds later Delphine swung it open, cocking one hip to the side and leaning against the door.

 

“Are you gonna invite me in?” Cosima arched an eyebrow.

 

“Non. What do you want?” Delphine arched one of her own right back.

 

Cosima sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Why are you upset with me? I didn't do anything.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“What?”

 

“Siobhan was attacking me, and you did nothing.” Delphine gestured at her vaguely, then let her hand drop back to her side. “You didn't stand up for me, you didn't ask any questions, you didn't try to diffuse the situation, you didn't even do something stupid. You just. Did. Nothing.”

 

Cosima could feel the words rise up, all of her defenses. All of the ' _but'_ s and ' _that's not fair'_ s and ' _you don't understand'_ s. She quashed them, as best she could, breathed in and out slowly, did all of the things everyone had tried to teach Sarah. “You're right. I should have come to your defense.” She reached a hand out, tentatively stroking Delphine's cheek with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry. Forgive me?”

 

She exhaled sharply through her nose, turning her head into the touch this time, even harder when Cosima opened her hand to lay her palm flat against her skin. “Okay.”

 

“So, can I come in now?” Delphine's eyes opened, and she nodded, stepping back so Cosima could enter and shutting the door behind them. Cosima had settled on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. “Wanna explain what all that was about?”

 

Delphine sat where she'd been indicated, a few inches from Cosima and ramrod straight. “I told you I broke up with Ole because of pressure from other people. One of those people was my father. He told me he was not going to give me any financial help, and I would not be welcome in his house if I would not follow his rules.” She leaned her forearms onto her knees. “One of those rules was that I could not see Ole. So I ended things. He and Siobhan were very close, much like she is with you, I would presume. She did not take his suicide well. She apparently still blames me for it. For choosing family and stability over love.”

 

Cosima scooted closer, rubbing soft circles on Delphine's lower back. “It wasn't your fault. That's—it's an impossible decision.” Delphine glanced back up at her, fresh tears in her eyes. “Really, it is. I tried to live under my parents' rules, I tried to be who they wanted me to be for a long time. I only left because I couldn't.”

 

“I did love him. I swear that I did, Cosima.” She whispered, clenching onto Cosima's upper arm. “I swear it.”

 

“Hey. I believe you. It's okay.” She pulled Delphine's head into her chest, held her there when the sobs came, making her body shake, hands twisting into the top of Cosima's dress. Cosima ran a hand through Delphine's hair. “It's okay, sweetie.”

 

Delphine's wracking sobs became shaky breaths, and eventually she pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Oh, God. I am not—not usually like this about him anymore, but it just brought it all back, you know?”

 

Cosima was still stroking at Delphine's hair, now focusing at the parts that had been stuck to her face by her tears. “Can I tell you something, Delphine? A secret?”

 

Delphine nodded. “Yes, of course.”

 

Cosima glanced down at Delphine's hands, scooping one up with her free one, running her thumb along the palm. “Je t'aime.” She whispered it to their hands, glancing up after a second of silence. “I love you, too.”

 

“Say it again.” Delphine's voice was hoarse and face red and shining from crying, her hair wild and flying every way, and her eyes fixed on Cosima, pupils growing slightly larger.

 

“I love--”

 

“Non. En francais.” She directed, grasping Cosima's face in her hands, keeping their eyes locked.

 

“Je t'aime? Did I say it wrong? Cause I thought that was one of the few things I had—” Delphine pulled Cosima forward, meeting her lips halfway, whimpering the second they made contact. “Oh.”

 

Delphine swung her leg over her lap, settling her hips low so that her thighs and ass were pressing into Cosima's legs. She ducked her head down to kiss her again, hips grinding down every time the tip of Cosima's tongue dragged along her own, every time she took Delphine's bottom lip between her teeth and tugged slightly. Cosima's hands had settled on her hips, though they slipped up and under her button up every now and again, teasing at the skin that disappeared into the waistband of her jeans.

 

Cosima pulled back to watch her, to see the way her desire looked—mouth hanging open, hair messy and wild, and eyes that had lost so much of the beautiful hazel Cosima had fallen for, were mostly pupils now. She could see Delphine's pulse throbbing in her neck and she leaned forward, perfectly level with it, and ran her tongue along the artery.

 

“Merde.” Delphine's hands were grasping at the matted hair on Cosima's head, struggling to hold onto something and instead scraping her deep red fingernails along the sensitive skin of her scalp.

 

It stung, but didn't hurt. Instead, Cosima could feel it arouse something in her, something she hadn't felt in a long time but now rattled at the bars of its cage. She let out a shaky breath, then bit into her neck, gently at first, then harder when the hands that had found a spot at the back of her skull pressed her face even tighter into her. She pulled away, placed a gentle kiss to her throat, then repeated herself on the other side, gentle nips interspersed with kisses and bites and licks.

 

Delphine was grinding down on her almost continuously now, and she was rocking her own hips back up to meet her. She pulled her hands away from Delphine's hips to start popping buttons, following with her lips, taking note of which spots seemed to make Delphine twitch or moan or whimper. Her mouth lingered when she reached the beginnings of Delphine's breasts, taking her time to kiss down until she reached the top of her bra, then running her tongue along the fabric line.

 

Delphine gasped, and Cosima pushed the now open button-up from her shoulders, letting Delphine pull it off her arms and whip it to the ground. She reached up and ran her thumb across Delphine's nipple, already hard and straining against the lacy material of the bra.

 

“Oh, Cosima.” Her hips stuttered in their rhythm briefly, before falling back into it twice as hard. Delphine, deciding she wasn't interested in waiting for Cosima to do so, reached back and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and throwing it behind her. She reached up, guiding Cosima's head toward her nipple. “Kiss me here.” Cosima's mouth wrapped around her nipple, and she let out a breathy whimper. “Yes.”

 

Cosima sucked the nipple into her mouth, then traced the tip of it with her tongue. She rolled it around her mouth, scraping her teeth along it occasionally, just because it made Delphine's hips jerk out of rhythm. She switched over to the other, treating it with the same slow intentionality that she could tell was making Delphine impatient and twitchy.

 

Eventually, Delphine stood, pulling her own jeans and underwear off, and climbing back on top of her. “I'm ready for you.” She breathed into her ear, grasping her by the wrist and moving it slowly to her cunt. “I've been waiting so long, mon amour.”

 

Every inch of Cosima was pulsing with the scent of Delphine, of the feeling of her, soft and warm and so wet beneath her fingers. She slipped a finger up, rubbing at her clit in lazy circles, feeling the fingernails scrape against her scalp again. She slid it back down, pressing into her up to the first knuckle, then back out, making Delphine chase her with her hips. Making her let out little whimpering huffs in her frustration.

 

She pressed her index and middle fingers together and pushed inside her again, this time as deep as she could.

 

“Oh. Merde, Cosima.” Delphine grasped onto the back of the couch to keep herself upright, the other dropping to Cosima's shoulder for leverage as she began riding her hand.

 

It was a bit of an awkward angle, sure, with her wrist bent in a way that would probably make the hours after being done a little sore, but it was worth it. _Christ,_ was it worth it.

 

Delphine's brows were knit, body glossy from sweating, bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she panted, quiet save for little moans that managed to slip free. And Cosima didn't do quiet, didn't like quiet. So she shifted her wrist forward, to hit her even deeper and thrust with the strength of her arm and her hips. Delphine's hand tightened around Cosima's shoulder, digging deep into the flesh, tugging at the dark deep place inside of Cosima that was roaring now, running loose and free, aching and throbbing and wanting.

 

“Does that feel good, baby?” She murmured the words into Delphine's chest.

 

“Oui. S—so good.” She stammered out, and vaguely the scientist in Cosima registered “loss of verbal acuity.” _She's close._

 

She picked up her pace, hitting her deep and rough, making the fingers still wrapped around her shoulder clench tighter with every thrust. She kissed back down to Delphine's nipple, lapped at the tip of it, scraped against it with her teeth.

 

“Oh, merde. Cosima, I—I am so close. Please.” Warmth seeped into every inch of Delphine's skin, like cloth soaking up water in triple time. Everything tingled, and her every muscle had taken on the pulsating dance. Clench, release, throb, relax, repeat. Eventually, it began to slow to occasional twitches, and she let her death grip on Cosima's shoulder loosen.

 

She felt Cosima nuzzle into her hair, inhaling the scent of her sweat. “Apparently I need to speak French more often.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry this took so long. My computer has been broken the past week and a half, which sucks big time. And this isn't as long as I wanted, cause I was kinda rushing to get this out. So, so sorry. I hope this will at least stave off the sadness for a little while.

 

“Apparently I need to speak French more often.”

 

Delphine laughed, pulling away as the awareness of pulsing muscles slowly seeped back to her. “It was very sweet.” She traced a thumb along Cosima's lips, along the crack and peel of their dryness. “You are very sweet.”

 

Cosima smiled, mouth hanging open and lopsided. “Thanks.” She brought her fingers up to her lips, groaning as she pulled them out of her mouth. “You are, too.”

 

Delphine shoved at her shoulder. “Such a brat.”

 

“Well, maybe. But I'm a brat who gave you what seemed to be one hell of an orgasm.” Cosima leaned back and locked her fingers behind her head, bringing her feet up to rest on the coffee table, even though Delphine was still sat on her lap.

 

“Oui. C'est vrai.” Delphine leaned forward, placing her lips just close enough to Cosima's she could feel the draw of them. Cosima pushed her chin forward to kiss her, but she pulled back, keeping their lips an inch apart even when Cosima let her head fall back to where it had been before.

 

“Are you being a tease, mademoiselle Cormier?” She moved her hands from behind her head to grasp roughly at the curve of Delphine's ass, grinning wider at the gasp and buck she got in return.

 

“I may not be an artist, cherie.” She reached down, dragging her fingers along the fabric of Cosima's tights, pulling the dress up as much as she could. “But you are certainly not the only one who's good with their hands.”

 

Cosima's breath trembled when it moved out of her, and she shifted her hips forward, forcing the dress even farther up her thighs. “I'd really, really like a demonstration of that.”

 

Delphine chuckled, the sound coming more from the base of her chest than her throat, and she leaned in to press their lips together. They kissed like new lovers, like the world lay at their feet and they could take their time with the feel of one anothers' mouths because they had a lifetime ahead to kiss and touch.

 

Cosima pulled back, bringing a hand up to the center of Delphine's chest. “Wait. I totally, totally want this. Okay? So, don't think I don't. But you've never done this before and I don't want you to feel obligated or anything. We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

 

Delphine smiled at her, wrapping her hand around the one on her chest. “I want to do this. Very much. As long as you keep in mind that I'm learning.”

 

“Definitely. I'll help however I can.” She nodded. “And I know it'll be amazing because I'm so into you it's ridiculous.” Delphine leaned in and kissed her again, but she pulled back. “Um, just a suggestion. Maybe we should go somewhere we can sprawl out? Like a bed?”

 

“Ah. Yeah. Of course.” She stood, holding out a hand to let Cosima up as well and held onto it as she led her to the bedroom. “Take your clothes off.”

 

Cosima raised an eyebrow, but reached behind her to unzip the back of her dress anyway. “Didn't take you for the bossy type.” The dress dropped to the floor and Delphine licked her lips. “I kinda like it.” She tugged her tights down next, stepping out of them and tossing them to the side.

 

She sounded... nervous. Which was interesting, really, because Cosima rarely dropped her bravado. Especially when it came to flirting. Yet here she was, naked and crossing an arm against her chest to grasp at her own bicep, looking from the floor to Delphine's eyes and back. Delphine took a step toward her, taking her by the wrist and moving her hand to the back of Delphine's neck. Then she took the one hanging loose and did the same, settling her own hands on Cosima's waist and pressing their bodies together.

 

“What's wrong, Cosima?”

 

“Nothing.” She shook her head, looked down at the ways their bodies indented into each other, sometimes giving and sometimes protruding. “Really. I want to do this.” She glanced back up, fiery and intense.

 

“Then we will.” She stroked her thumb along her bottom rib. “But I want to make sure you're okay, as well.”

 

Cosima glanced down, swallowing the phlegm crowding the back of her throat. “I'm okay. It's just...” Her fingers tensed around the ligaments in Delphine's neck. “What if you don't like it?”

 

“I will.” She tilted Cosima's head up by her chin. “I've never felt so attracted to someone, Cosima. To the whole of someone, not just their body or their mind or their abilities. It's everything about you that captivates me.” She kissed her, short and gentle. “Let me show you how much.” She kissed her again, moving her back the step until they reached the edge of the bed, and Cosima lowered herself slowly, Delphine looming over her, bulging the muscles usually hidden in her arms.

 

Delphine could feel herself rocking into Cosima's body already, just at the feeling of lying on top of her, at feeling her skin and her heat. She moved from her lips to her ear, flicking a tongue against it, Cosima's hand grasping suddenly into her hair. She sucked the lobe into her mouth, biting at it playfully before continuing down to her neck. Cosima's reactions were quiet, but she could feel her chest heavy and quick, pressing up against where they met, could hear the quick bursts of air through her nose. She knew she should take her time, but she knew Cosima's face, knew her neck. She'd kissed her there before, touched her there before. There was still so much to explore, so much that was alien and unknown and exciting.

 

So she continued down, loving the way Cosima's gasps of breath had gained a slight whine so that she was panting her pleasure out to the air. She brought her lips down to wrap around a nipple and felt the hands in her hair tighten, heard the panting breath solidify into a deep mouthy inhale. Her tongue flicked out around the tightening nipple, feeling it gain depth and ridges previously dormant, and she repeated the action, this time dragging the broad, flat side along until the end, when she sharpened the tip of it.

 

Cosima gasped again, hips thrusting up into her. “Shit. Oh, shit.”

 

Delphine glanced up to look at her, lips parted and head cocked back; her shoulders sinking sharply into the bed. She moved over to the other and repeated herself, remembering Cosima's careful, deliberate symmetry and replicating it. Meanwhile, she let her hands grasp into the skin of Cosima's hips, unconsciously pulling them closer into her stomach.

 

Cosima's hands scrambled from the sheets to grasp at Delphine's. “Please touch me.” She whimpered. Her hand pulled Delphine's to the top inside of her thigh. “Oh, fuck. Please.”

 

“I didn't expect you to beg.” Delphine grinned against her nipple, and her hips pressed forward again. “Not that I mind.”

 

“Don't get used to it.” Cosima chuckled breathily. “Wouldn't want the power going to your head.”

 

Delphine looked down to where her hand now rested against Cosima's cunt. “Where...?” The question died and she felt like laughing. It wasn't that she didn't understand female anatomy. Obviously, she did. But generally, when she touched herself, she touched her clit. But in sex, she was used to penetration. And Cosima had penetrated her as well, so was that what she was supposed to do? She looked back up at Cosima.

 

Cosima guided her hand against her clit. “This is good.” She breathed, hips bucking up again. “Fuck.”

 

Delphine fell into the rhythm she was used to with herself, quick and circular, and Cosima seemed to be enjoying herself. Yet somehow it didn't feel like enough to do this. She wanted more; wanted to be pleasuring Cosima with her entire body. She took the nipple back into her mouth, Cosima's legs rose and her knees angled in, pulling Delphine closer toward her.

 

“I want to--” She trailed off, furrowing her brow. “Could I touch you like this?” Her fingers slipped down, pausing before entering Cosima and waiting permission.

 

Cosima nodded vigorously. “Jesus, yes.”

 

Delphine pressed a finger into her, rocking with her whole body, and Cosima's hands fell down to her back, grasping tightly around her sides. “Say my name.” Delphine muttered into where she'd risen to her neck.

 

“Delphine.” Cosima groaned, locking her calves around Delphine's thighs and encouraging them to push harder, faster.

 

The word hit her like the rush it had been the first time she'd heard it, and she pushed even harder.

 

“More fingers.” Cosima pulled on her elbow.

 

She slipped a second finger into her.

 

“Shit.” Her shoulders dipped back again, opening her throat to Delphine, who took the opportunity to kiss and lick at the flesh there. “Your fingers are so long.”

 

Delphine laughed. “I told you I was good with them.”

 

“Yes. Fuck. So good.” Cosima brought her hand down to rub at her own clit. “Don't stop. Please. Fuck. Don't stop, Delphine.”

 

It didn't take long for Cosima to come from there, arching herself hard into Delphine while simultaneously pulling her hard against her and letting out a loud, drawn out moan.

 

“Okay.” Cosima laughed breathily, arm still slung lazily around Delphine's back. “Are you sure you've never done that before? Because you're really good at it.”

 

Delphine smiled, propping herself up on an elbow. “Yes, I'm sure. It is more work than I'd expected.”

 

Cosima pulled her back down. “Sorry about that.”

 

“No, don't be. It was incredible.”

 

“You're incredible.” She turned her head to take a deep breath against Delphine's neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and hints of perfume. “So amazing.”

 

* * *

 

“No. I never agreed to this.” Cal shook his head, watching Sarah pace from side to side in their shared living room. “Look, it's one thing to have Kira spending time with this—this psychopath. It's another for her to live with us.”

 

“She's not a psychopath.” Sarah shot back, pausing long enough to look him in the eye as she spoke. “She's my sister.”

 

“She thinks she's a fucking serial killer, Sarah.” He was exasperated, holding a hand out, begging her to see.

 

“Assassin.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “You're kidding, right?”

 

“Serial killers kill for fun, assassins kill for money.” She sighed, turning away as she realized how useless this particular argument was. “It's different.”

 

“Okay. Well, I don't want anyone who has killed—or even _thinks_ they've killed living with my daughter.” He shot back, leaning into the couch.

 

“ _Our_ daughter.” Sarah growled. “I don't remember you there during the eight bloody hours of labor.”

 

“I would've been if you'd told me, Sarah.” He shook his head. “Besides, that's not the point. The point is Kira's safety.”

 

“What am I supposed to do, Cal?” She threw her hands in the air. “Let her rot in some institution?”

 

He stood. “I don't know. But you can't bring her here. Not if you want Kira to live with us.” He turned and headed for the door.

 

“Where are you going, Cal?”

 

“Out for a minute.”

 

The door slammed behind him, and she sighed, falling against the couch. Resting her elbows on her knees. She sat there for a while, before the sound of her ringing phone reminded her there was a world that required her near-constant attention. She pulled it out, glancing only briefly at the name before pressing it to her ear.

 

“What, Cosima?” She snapped.

  
“Whoa. Down, Cujo.”  
  


“I'm having a bad day. What do you want?” She leaned the arm that held the phone against her thigh.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

She let out a slow breath through her nose. “No.”

 

“Ooookay, then.”

 

“So did you need something?” She wished she could convey how frustrated she was, how exasperated, but phones never were good for that sort of thing.

 

“I was just calling because Mrs. S yelled at Delphine. It turns out--”

 

Cosima was talking. So much. Rambling on in the way she did when she was too excited to filter her thoughts. Sarah felt the rage bubble inside of her, pouring out to her lips. “Cos.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Shut up.” There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Cosima's compliance just angered her further. “I don't wanna hear about your stupid relationship anymore, all right? Either be with her or don't.”

 

“Come on, Sarah. That's not fair. I wasn't even debating that.” After a half second's pause, she added. “We're together now. For real. That's what I was trying to tell you.”

 

“Congratulations. Want me to buy you a fucking cake?”

 

“Fuck you. Why can't you just be happy for me?”

 

“Because I'm always there for everyone!” Sarah shouted, standing. “I'm there when everyone's life falls apart. Well, you know what? I'm sick of it. Stay out of my life.”

 

Cosima sighed. “Whatever's wrong, you should really probably talk about it instead of lashing out at me.”

 

“Nothing's wrong but your bullshit.” She hung up the phone, throwing it onto the coffee table, where it slid across the surface and clattered to the floor. “Bitch.”

 

“Sarah? Sarah!” Cosima glanced at the phone, seeing that the call had ended. She frowned, throwing the phone onto her bed. “Bitch.”


	20. Heart-Shaped Birthmark

“Hey.” Cosima leant her elbows on the railing next to Sarah and glanced sideways at her friend's profile. Sarah was staring out at the thicket of trees behind Cal's cabin, ignoring the swirl of people and conversation happening all around her. “You haven't returned any of my calls. I was starting to worry.”

 

Sarah nodded, still not moving her eyes from the rays of the setting sun that were making their way through the leaves. Cosima lifted a hand to touch Sarah's shoulder just to have it shrugged off. “Don't.”

 

“What's going on, Sarah?” Cosima sighed and felt a weight tug on the skin of her face. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

 

Sarah swallowed and glanced down at her hands. “You know how Mrs. S said Kira could come live with me and Cal after graduation?” Cosima nodded. “I told him about Helena, and he said she couldn't live with us with Kira round.”  
  
“What? Why?”

 

“Says it's too dangerous. Says Helena's unpredictable.” She blew out a breath. “He's got a point though, doesn't he?”

 

“No.” Cosima turned so her entire body faced Sarah. “Helena's great with Kira. She would never hurt her. And Kira totally adores her.”

 

“Yeah, well, he's not moving on it and it's his house.” Her head slouched forward and she brought a hand to her forehead to support it. “What am I supposed to do? Choose between my daughter and my sister?”

 

“She could stay with me?” Cosima offered.

 

“You're moving for the summer and we both know she can't live alone.” Sarah said.

 

“What about Fe?” She tried again, raising her eyebrows. “Or Mrs. S?”

 

“Don't you think I've been through all this already?” Sarah snapped then finally raised her head to look at Cosima. “I'll figure it out, all right? Just leave it.”

 

“Okay. Sorry.” She raised her hands defensively. “Just trying to help.”

 

“I don't want help.” Sarah shot back. They stood in a tense silence for a minute, before Sarah let out a sharp sigh. “I need a drink. You want one?”

 

“Please.”

 

Sarah disappeared into the kitchen and Cosima turned around, taking in the group around her. The core folks were there: Sarah, Felix, Tony, Alison, Beth, and Art. Then a handful of people connected to one person or another: partners or friends that never managed to integrate into the larger group or get close to anyone's heart. She scratched at her dreads; it was a ragtag group of people, a _strange_ group of people. She just hoped they could pass as normal enough to not make tonight a complete disaster.

 

Sarah came back and handed a solo cup to Cosima, then leaned against the railing next to her. She took a sip then said “I heard Delphine's bringing her mum and dad by tonight. You nervous?”

 

Cosima laughed. “Nervous doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now.” She waved a hand in the air. “I'd say panicky. Or terrified, maybe.”

 

Sarah nudged her shoulder with her own. “They're gonna love you, Cos. How could they not?”

 

“Mrs. S sure seemed to think they wouldn't.” Cosima looked down into the murky drink in her hand.

 

“Well, Mrs. S don't know everything, does she? Besides, I think the frog really cares about you.” She shrugged a lazy shoulder. “Maybe it won't matter what they think.”

 

“I really hope so.” She looked up to catch Sarah's wary smile. “Thanks, Sarah. I know you're sick of hearing about this stuff.”

 

“No, I was just—” She shook her head. “Just being a cock.”

 

“You got that right.” Cosima smiled, and Sarah shoved her in the arm.

 

“Oi! There you are.” Felix traipsed out the door, giggling and grasping Cosima's arm. He leaned in close to her ear. “There are some very distinguished guests here looking for you.”

 

Cosima exhaled slowly. “Shit.”

 

“It'll be okay, Cos.” Sarah put a hand on her shoulder. “You can be charming when you wanna be.”

 

She nodded—too nervous to even retaliate against the backhanded compliment—and let Felix lead her into the kitchen, where Delphine was pouring wine into glasses Cal had fished from the cabinet for her. She looked up when Cosima walked in, like she could feel she was near, and a large smile took over her cheeks. It had only been two days since they'd seen each other; they'd decided together it would be best to not see each other at the graduation ceremony the day before so Delphine could float the idea softly, then bring them to meet Cosima at the Rimbaud graduation bash. Delphine had said it'd be best for Cosima to “be in her element.” Whatever that meant.

 

“Cosima.” Delphine reached out, pulling Cosima to her side and giving her a quick brush of her lips. “I'd like you to meet my parents, Marc and Annette. Maman, Papa, this is Cosima.”

 

Cosima did her best to swallow her nervousness and smile, but Delphine holding her breath and standing stiffly against her was definitely not helping. “Hi, it's a total pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about the both of you.” She reached out her hand, and shook theirs in succession.

 

“Yes.” Marc Cormier was beginning to go bald. Or maybe he just had a really intense widow's peak. But either way his dark, wavy, brushed-back hair combined with the sweeping hairline only made him seem more regal—and he was the sort of man who commanded respect. He stood stock straight, his handshake was firm, and he was _tall_. His suit probably cost more than Cosima paid in rent. “We've heard quite a bit about you, as well.”

 

“Enchantee.” Annette was considerably less imposing. Still tall, but the tenderness of her reminded Cosima of what she loved in Delphine. But she seemed less sturdy, like a bird, always a little shaken and surprised. Her hair was curly and brown, pulled back into a simple bun. She wore a deep red dress that brought out a dangerous, murky brown in her irises.

 

“So, you guys just had dinner, right? How was it?” Cosima asked, taking another sip of her drink and suddenly feeling stupid for the damn plastic cup.

 

Annette nodded earnestly. “Oh, it was absolutely lovely.”

 

“Yes. Luckily, Delphine has inherited my wife's passion for the art of cuisine.” Marc's eyes flickered down to Cosima's shoes and back up. “Do you cook, Cosma?”

 

“It's Cos-I-ma, papa.” Delphine jumped in. “And yes, she's a very good cook.”

 

“Nowhere near as good as your daughter, though.” Cosima assured, feeling his stare as it flayed her confidence from her piece by piece.

 

“And you're an artist?”

 

Cosima exhaled. This she could handle. “Oh, yeah. A painter.” Maybe Delphine was onto something with this whole 'element' idea.

 

“In what style?” Annette asked, smile still seeming perilously precarious on a face that seemed designed for melancholy.

 

She chuckled. “That's a hard one. I don't like to label myself, really. I think it just ends up pigeonholing you and killing creativity.”

 

“Or perhaps it holds you accountable to a concept.” He responded, arching his right eyebrow.

 

“Cosima is an incredible artist, Papa.” Delphine stepped in, jaw hard with a defiant solemnity Cosima wasn't used to seeing in her.

 

He took a sip of his wine. “I'm sure.”

 

“Marc.” Annette shot him an almost identical look to the one Delphine wore. “Être gentil avec elle.”

 

“I am being nice.” He turned to Cosima. “Do you feel as though I am being unkind to you, Cosima?”

 

Cosima glanced between the three faces around her, quickly bringing her drink to her lips to buy time then shaking her head. “No. Not at all, Mr. Cormier.”

 

“See?” He held his hands out, palm up, in her direction then turned to his wife.

 

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest but said nothing.

 

“I'm sorry.” Delphine murmured to her. She squeezed Cosima's hip with the hand resting there.

 

“What are you sorry for?” Marc asked. “Is she the one whose daughter has decided to waste her youth chasing after lunatics?”

 

“Papa!” She snapped. Her head whipped around so fast a strand of hair slipped out of her bun. “She is not a lunatic. And I'm not wasting anything. I love her.”

 

“Yes, just like you loved that boy.” He finished the wine in his hand and set the glass down on the counter gently. “I'd hoped you would have learned by now that your obsession with some sort of pure, passionate love is a mythology.”

 

“With all due respect, sir.” Cosima cut in, in an attempt to meter the growing anger beginning to pulse from her chest. “Passionate love isn't a myth. It's been well-documented throughout practically all of history.”

 

“And how many of those stories end in happiness?” He spared only a peripheral glance at her. His eyes were still on Delphine. “Passionate love is for your kind, Cosima. Cut off your ear for all I care. Poison yourself. Paint tortured self-portraits or write aching, tortured poems about whomever you like. But I will not accept this fate for my only child.”

 

“This isn't a play. This is my life.” Delphine responded, pulling Cosima impossibly closer to her side. “Why can't you respect what I want for it?”

 

“Make whatever decision you want, Delphine.” He raised a hand in surrender. “But I won't stand by and say nothing while you destroy your future. You could have had a perfect life with that last man. What was his name?”

 

“Paul.” Annette supplied, though her eyes were on the hardwood floor.

 

“Ah, yes. Paul. Merci, cherie.”

 

Delphine looked to her shoes. “I didn't love him the way I love her.”

 

“Don't be stupid. A good marriage is a partnership, it's not about love.”

 

Cosima glanced up at Annette, who was running her thumb along the stem of her glass, watching it catch the light when it tilted.

 

“What about Maman? Don't you love her?” Delphine's face was hard, but her voice gave away a desperate exasperation.

 

Marc glanced over at his wife, who refused to meet his gaze. “Your mother is my best friend. She and I both know that is the most important thing.”

 

There was a heavy silence around them, even with the loud conversation of the other partygoers and the music playing beneath it.

 

“It's late.” Marc grabbed the wine glass from his wife's hand. “I think it's time we head back to the hotel.” He placed the half-full glass on the counter next to his. “Thank you for having us to your party, Cosima. I'll see you in the morning, Delphine.”

 

Annette paused a step behind him and turned to look at Cosima. “It really was nice to meet you. I'm sure you're a lovely woman.” Then she followed her husband out the door.

 

“So.” Cosima said, breaking the quiet disbelief. “That happened.” She looked down at her drink then up at Delphine, who was looking back at her. The way her brows were tilted inward forced little lines into the skin around them and Cosima found herself looking down the hall. She couldn't think about Delphine right now, about the little details that magnetized Cosima to her because right now they were making her feel faint. “I need to sit down.”

 

Delphine caught her arm as she attempted to brush past her. “Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't know—I—I couldn't—” She sighed. “Please don't be angry with me.”

 

Cosima covered Delphine's hand with her own. “I'm not angry. Everything's fine. I just need a minute.”

 

She walked up the stairs to the guest bedroom, already sparsely decorated with Kira's things. Large, block letters and butterflies, pictures of her with Sarah, with Mrs. S. Cosima stopped at one, picking it up. Kira was up in Cosima's arms, covered in flour that Cosima was trying desperately to clean off her with a washcloth. Kira'd had the bright idea to bake her mom a surprise birthday cake before she got home, and Cosima had been excited to turn it into an impromptu science lesson. Cosima may have overestimated the five year old's ability to measure flour unsupervised.

 

It was Cosima's favorite picture of herself. Before that day, she didn't want kids. Every time she considered it she thought of her own parents, she thought of how simple it was for them to break her, to instill in her an anger that wouldn't subside, no matter what she did. But standing there with Kira tucked tight against her, crying because she thought she'd ruined her mother's birthday, Cosima thought maybe. With the right people around her, maybe she could have a family. She picked up the picture and went to go sit on the bed, cradling it gently in her palms.

 

The voices in her head, the ones that fueled that infinite anger, were violent pricks in the back of her mind. As much as she tried to push them away, they came back over and over. _Sick, unnatural, unworthy._ And now, she could add _lunatic_ to the bunch. She shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to cry and smear her makeup. Not wanting to give those old voices the power she'd fought so hard to wrest from them.

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Cosima?” It was Delphine. “Are you all right?”

 

“I'm fine!” She called back, though her voice scraped and wavered. “Be out in a minute.”

 

Felix came up behind Delphine, who stood with her forehead flat against the door and her eyes shut. “You all right, Delphine?” He asked, bringing a gentle hand to her back.

 

She rolled her head to look at him. “Yes, I'm fine. But Cosima... I don't know. She walked away and locked herself in this room.”

 

“It went that bad, huh?” He let his thumb stroke absently between her shoulder blades.

 

“Probably worse than you're imagining.”

 

He nodded slowly, patted his fingertips against her back, then dropped his hands altogether. “She just needs some space. I've known Cosima a long time, I'll talk to her. You—“ He pointed his thumb toward the kitchen. “Go get yourself sufficiently smashed to forget all this ever happened. She'll be out of this funk in no time.”

 

Delphine shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “You're sure I can't help?”

 

“I'm sure.”

 

She let them drop. “Okay. Thank you, Felix.”

* * *

 

“She looks so _sad._ ” Alison said, watching Delphine through the glass doors to the porch. “I wish there was something I could do.”

 

Beth wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She'll be okay. She's tougher than she looks.”

 

“I heard it went poorly. Very poorly.” Alison shook her head. “I can't even imagine.”

 

“What? Your parents are thrilled about you dumping Donnie for me?” Beth squeezed her.

 

“Actually, they told me they just want me to be happy.” Alison replied. “They're... very free-spirited.”

 

“Oh.” Beth bit her lip. “I didn't know that.”

 

“You'll meet them one day.” Alison looked up at her and smiled. “They'll love you.”

  
Beth smiled back, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss to Alison's lips.

 

“Hey, you two.” When they pulled back and opened their eyes, Cal was there with his hands shoved bashfully into his pockets. “Sorry to interrupt, but we said we'd play some songs around now.”

 

Alison nodded. “Of course. I'm sorry.” She turned to Beth. “I'll see you later.” Another quick, chaste kiss. Alison had never been much for PDA.

 

Cal and Alison headed out to the backyard. “So, did you want to do that new song we've been practicing tonight?” He asked as he sat on the stump where he'd designated their performance area.

 

Alison's face lit up. “Yes!” She grabbed his shoulders, and he stiffened, brows furrowing. “Cal, you're a genius!”

 

“Oh. Um. Okay?” He smiled, though Alison's sudden outburst of excitement had rattled him. Alison was a brilliant musician, and a lovely person, but not often given to strong outward displays of... well, anything but pleasantness, really. “Do you want to do that one first?”

  
She scanned the crowd, finding that everyone had begun to crowd around them, but didn't see Cosima anywhere. “No. Not yet. I'll let you know.”

 

He nodded. “All right.”

 

They picked up their instruments and started playing.

* * *

 

Once they heard Cal and Alison begin to play, Cosima let Felix lead her out onto the porch. She still felt shaken—a little sick to her stomach and a lot unsteady—but this was an important night for her friends so she shoved the feelings down and lingered off to the side of the crowd where she could hide. Alison glanced up, catching her eye and smiling at the corners of her lips.

  
“For our next song, we're going to do something new. We've only been practicing this for a couple weeks, but I think now is the perfect time for us to perform it.” She and Cal set their instruments aside and stood. “Also, in the interest of giving due credit, neither Cal nor I wrote the lyrics to this song. I found this poem in a friend's notebook, and I loved it so much I just had to turn it into a song.”

 

Cosima followed Alison's gaze to Delphine, whose large eyes seemed impossibly wider and whose mouth hung open in unabated surprise. The two began to sing, without the aid of any instruments.

 

“ _I wanna be your starlight in the darkest hour. I wanna feed you love and give you all my fire—be the ignite that takes you to a higher power. I wanna taste you and the sweetness turns to sour.”_

 

Delphine had crossed her arms over her chest and was now staring intently at the ground. She was taking breaths with a force that made her whole body rise and fall visibly. Cosima felt the familiar urge to hold her, to crack a joke and calm the hurricane inside her.

 

“ _Want you to hold me like you'll drop me and I'll shatter. Want you to touch me like you're drowning in my water. Cry over me like if you don't, you'll become sadder. I wanna climb you like the tallest of the ladders.”_

 

Cosima was pushing her way across the small crowd, slipping between bodies that were packed tightly toward the edge of the makeshift stage. A sudden urgency had overtaken her, forced her into movement her brain couldn't keep up with.

 

“ _I wanna be your starlight in the darkest hour. I wanna hold you just like Paris holds the tower. And fill you like the constant flowing of the ocean. And love you like I'm drunk off of the strongest potion.”_

 

She reached Delphine, still downcast and shy, bottom lip tight between her teeth. She reached out and touched her arm. When she glanced up a wary, sad smile crossed her features.

  
“Did you write this?” Cosima asked, and Delphine nodded.

 

“ _I wanna reach you at the bottom of the ocean. I wanna live my life beside you in slow motion.”_

 

The song ended, and Cosima brought a hand up to Delphine's face, stroking her thumb along her jaw. The applause roared and subsided, and Alison, content that what she'd set out to do had been achieved, quickly moved on to the next song.

 

Delphine grabbed Cosima's hand, and led her to the edge of the forest, away from the crowd still too engrossed in the performance to notice. “Cosima, I have something to say.” She said softly, bringing her hands up to Cosima's shoulders.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Do you remember our conversation at the park?” Delphine asked, playing with a dread that hung next to her hand.

 

“About myopia?” Cosima asked, smiling gently. Delphine started to pull back, but Cosima caught her by the wrists. “Sorry, I was just joking. Yeah, I remember our conversation.”

 

Delphine bit her lip, looking down at where their hands now fit into one another's. “I've thought about it, like you asked, and I meant it. In every way you said, I meant it. And I still do.” She looked up into Cosima's eyes. “Nothing has come easy for us, and I don't know if it ever will.” She chuckled breathily. “But I love you, and it's worth all the pain in the world.”

 

Cosima grasped her face and pulled her down, kissing her with a gentle urgency. “Ditto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone.
> 
> As I've said before, I'm no lyricist--the lyrics to Delphine's poem come form the song Heart-Shaped Birthmark by Tei Shei. It's totally beautiful, and I suggest you check it out if you want to be utterly blown away. She's on spotify. You have no excuse.
> 
> Also, I wrote this chapter and I thought it was a beautiful ending to this story. So, our journey together is now complete. Thank you so much for everything--all your kind words and your investment in what I've built. You're the most wonderful support/audience a person could ask for.


End file.
